Sirens
by Cactusgirl329
Summary: Four years after a horrific string of unsolved murders mysteriously stopped, a new body has been discovered. The police call on the same team of private investigators who almost solved the case last time, but four years can change everything. Brittana. M. Glee. Crime/Mystery/Romance/Action/More!
1. Chapter 1

**Hello All!**

**Brittana. Multi-Chapter. M. Mystery/Crime/Thriller/Angst/Friendship/Love/Romance/so many other things I can't possibly list them all!**

**M- I write M for sex, language, violence, adult themes, and etc. implied that you are mature readers.**

**This story takes place years after my series of fun mysteries during the high school years titled **_**Lord Tubbington: Private Eye**_**. You do not have to read my previous story in order to read **_**Sirens **_**as only a few minor characters will make cameos in this story. It stands by itself. **

**That being said, to all my readers from before, if you wish to keep images of Brittana from LT: P-Eye in your head as perfect, you can totally separate them. I completely understand since that was such a cute story and I invested so much love, fluff, and perfection between San, Britt, and LT! **

**Okay now that I have disclaimed the shit out of this story! Haha! I am very excited to present my much different, much darker, much more intense, and as always, smut filled story…**

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 1**

They drew in from all sides - calls too dreadful and yet too alluring to ignore. No one seemed able to heed their real meaning, which meant to stay away. Instead people milled about, huddling closer and closer to the yellow police caution tape. They pressed against the harsh words which explicitly stated "Do Not Cross." Had they been aboard a ship and told not to heed the sirens' call, they would have been inevitably crashed against the sharp rocks of the seas. Their bodies would have been strewn amidst the waves and cast into Neptune's depths. There they would have fed all manners of fish and creatures of the deep.

He flicked his cigarette to the street and ground it out with the heel of his boot.

Noah Puckerman had known sirens.

He had known many sirens his entire life – the kind that meant a car crash, the kind that pulled over a speeding car, the kind that signaled a need to slow down for children, the kind that blared over an intercom or announced a goal scored, or paraded down the street in celebration, or faded away to some distant tragedy across town, and yes, he had known the human kind of siren as well. Beautiful woman able to capture the soul with notes, express his deepest fears and highest elations. Women who had been able to tear him apart with only a few words of lyrics sung in perfect pitch to which no man or woman could resist. He had known those sirens and at one point been graced enough to sing with them.

But no longer.

He lit another cigarette and ducked under the yellow tape towards the sirens. It seemed that no matter what kind – woman or tragedy – Puck had never been able to tear himself away from the soul-wrenching sound. He had never been able to steer himself clear towards safety; towards home. No, he had spent his life crashing again and again upon the rocks only to wash away and hear another call beckoning to splinter him once again. He had never turned away.

"What do we have here?" He asked one of the patrolmen.

The man glanced once at Puck then to the credentials in his hands. "Nothing that I can talk about, detective. In fact, they haven't let anyone near. Our orders are to stay here and make sure no pictures, no people, and definitely no press get through."

"Thanks. Want one?" He offered the patrolman a cigarette.

"Can't. Supervisor is watching. Thanks anyway, detective."

Puck shrugged and placed the pack back into his jacket. He pulled the jacket closer to his body. Fuck. New York had to be cold. His head remained uncovered although he wished he would have remembered to wear his baseball cap at least. His shaved head seemed naked against the cutting winds at night.

He took two more steps towards where all the commotion was. Already the coroner had arrived and the forensics team. A few people he recognized and had worked cases with before, but something seemed off, especially with the looks people were giving him. Homicides were always a serious business, but most of the time people would at least bother to give a head nod or a friendly welcome. Sometimes those small pleasantries were the only things that kept Puck sane in this harsh world.

"Noah." A voice sounded behind. Puck turned back. Only a few men would dare to call him by his first name. He had lots of nicknames, but Noah wasn't a common name thrown about.

"Chief, what's the situation here? This isn't my normal call."

His commander wore a jacket similar to Puck's serviceable, no bullshit type. At the age of forty-five Macklin was already balding except for his beard and he sported a large body that hadn't seen action on the street in quite a few years. For the most part they had a pretty decent relationship.

Chief Macklin pushed his hands through the thick patches of the hair on his face as he approached Puck. "I know this isn't your normal beat, but I wanted to be the first person to tell you. I just didn't think that you would show up. It's not a good place for you to be right now, Noah."

Again he used his first name. Puck should have realized the situation the first time, but now the second time jarred him. He grew suspicious. "Why? What would you need to tell me away from a crime scene?"

"Why don't you come with me and we can talk about it over a burger at the diner."

"Chief, don't fuck with me now." Puck felt anger now replacing his caution. Why would he try to take him away?

"I don't think it's one of your friends, but-"

"What! Did someone get hurt? Shit! Who is it?" Puck flew the few feet that separated them and grabbed his commander by the collar of his shirt and yanked at him. Despite the older man's weight, Puck was able to lift him an inch off the ground in his fury. A few bodies shifted towards them, but didn't touch the two.

The already tense atmosphere charged with tension. The younger man looked around and saw a few of the patrolmen inching towards them unsure how to react to the now very awkward situation. Puck realized what he was doing and slowly lowered his boss to the ground. Luckily, Macklin didn't retaliate, but pretended the incident had never happened as he smoothed down his collar.

"Like I said, I don't think it's one of your friends, Noah, but we can be sure of one thing. The Midnight Strangler is back." Macklin shook his head. Then looked off into the distance not wanting to meet Puck's eyes. Even saying the name after all these years sent shivers through the seasoned police chief. Shivers of anger, fear, and shame. He had always hated what the media had dubbed one of the most notorious and disgusting killers he had ever seen. The one that had gotten away.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit." Puck walked away from Macklin unable to release his frustration. The only solid object he could find was a parked cop car. He drove his fist into the side panel of the car and yelled. "Fuck!"

Macklin rushed over and pulled him away. "Keep it together, Noah. I can't have you causing a scene here with the media swarming. And I can't have them knowing that this asshole is back. At least, not until we can debrief the department and go over the body with the coroner and forensics team to confirm. And for all we know, this could be a copy cat since the killer hasn't surfaced in the past four years. I need you to keep your shit together, alright, son?"

His large hand pressed down on Puck's shoulder applying just enough pressure to comfort and yet subtly remind the younger man to keep himself in check. Panting hard and heavy, Puck eventually allowed himself to simmer back down. He could do it. He didn't have to freak out. It would be fine. "Got it, chief."

"Good." Macklin pulled his hand back and stroked his salt and pepper beard for a few moments. The sound of the sirens washed over them. The crowd still murmured. Both men's eyes turned towards the stretcher that held the body.

"You're sure it wasn't anyone I know?" Puck asked finally. His heart felt instantly heavier at the question. So many of his friends had made the trip to New York to live out their big dreams. Last time…

"I had the station run the name. But the girl wasn't from Lima, in fact, she wasn't even from Ohio so I doubt it was one of your friends."

"Thanks. I don't know if I can go through that again…" Puck said softly under his breath. He didn't want Macklin to hear his admission. All he could remember was the body.

Her body. She had been his friend. At one time, she had been something more.

All he could remember was her body and the cold sinking feeling that he would never be okay again – nothing would ever be okay again. That day had torn his whole world apart, but he tried not to think about it. He couldn't afford to think about how he had failed, how everyone had failed.

"Look, Noah, I know this is going to bring up some bad memories, but I need to you bring her into the station. You are one of her oldest friends so I don't want to send anyone else. Besides you know she's been a reckless cannon since the whole ordeal." Macklin said lighting up a cigarette for himself. He still couldn't look Puckerman in the eye.

"I thought you said she wasn't allowed in the station anymore."

"I know what I said and I had meant it at the time. If it wasn't for this mess she still wouldn't be allowed in the station. I would have had her investigator license revoked if I knew she wasn't capable, but the bitch somehow keeps finding work and until…" He trailed off looking for better words. "…that whole thing happened; she was one of the best. You've known her the longest and she's your friend so if you can rouse her from her drunken stupor and get her down to the station, I would be grateful. I don't want her finding out about this through the news. She'll be a mess as it is."

"Chief, you know what this case did to her the last time she worked it. I don't know if it's a good idea. I mean she still isn't herself and she's worse now that she's alone." Puck ventured carefully trying not to sound challenging. "Besides we have all the case notes from the last time these sprees started. Maybe it would be best not to bring in anyone else."

"No. We tried to play it cute last time and too many people died. This time I want no mistakes and no pussy footing around this shit. I want everyone who ever worked on the case back in my office going over statements, witness accounts, and victimology. I'm even thinking about calling the feds in right away this time. I don't want to give this asshole a chance to get going like last time." Macklin flicked the cigarette to the ground and finally turned to Puck. "This will _not_ be a repeat of last time. Do you understand me, Puckerman?"

Despite his commander's harsh tone, Puck actually felt reassured at the sound of his last name spoken like a threat. It made him feel like for a half second that this would be a regular case and everything would be alright. Macklin nodded and shook Puck's hand before walking away. Puck repeated the last statement again and again in his head like a mantra.

This will not be a repeat of last time.

This will not be a repeat of last time.

This wouldn't be like last time.

This couldn't be like last time.

Yet the tight ball of feelings knotting in his core caused the man to give into dark thoughts as he slammed the door of his car. What if this would be like last time? What if they couldn't catch this guy again? What if another of his friends died? What if? What if?

* * *

"_Fuck." The brunette moaned and grasped at strands of blonde hair between her spread legs. "Right there. Fuck. Shit. Your-your tongue is-"_

_The blonde didn't let up, but continued to run her tongue up and down dipping in and out of the girl's wet pussy. She glanced up once just to see the woman barely functioning from the intense amount of pleasure. Sharp pain reared in her left shoulder, but she didn't mind. In fact, she loved the power to make a woman cum so hard she had to dig her nails in just to keep from bucking too high. _

"_Oh God I'm gonna cum again. Shit." The woman's hips lifted from the white sheets on the bed as her thighs crashed around the blonde's head. Strong confident hands held the woman's hips to help maneuver her to where she could suck onto her cilt. And just when it seemed that the brunette could take no more, the blonde shifted a hand between her legs and pressed her back down to the bed. Fingers slipped into the woman's pussy and curled while a thumb continued to stimulate her cilt. The woman could take no more, she cried out riding her latest orgasm as she rocked into the body above her. _

_Satisfied with herself, the blonde smirked. She savored the look of absolute "I'm fucked" on the other girl's face as she slowly removed her dripping fingers. The shorter brown haired girl moaned softly on the bed and reached down to stroke her throbbing sex. _

_The blonde rolled from the bed, naked. Beautifully naked and suddenly unaware of the other body in the room. Long languid legs stretched out and bare feet padded noiseless against the wooden floor of her apartment. She walked into the kitchen. Her fingers nails scrapped along the walls in order to keep herself steady. _

_The refrigerator contained nothing but beer and old containers of Chinese food take-out. For a moment, she considered eating some. But after taking a quick whiff of the contents, she decided otherwise. It looked like she would finish the night the same way she had started the afternoon - a bottle of opened whiskey on the counter beckoned her. She grasped the handle and washed the taste of cum down. The alcohol barely burned or maybe it did, she just didn't notice anymore. _

_The clock read 2:47 a.m. _

_Another long night, maybe she'd be able to sleep tonight. Alcohol. Sex. Another successful case. What more could a girl want?_

_Her heart stopped and she tried desperately to ignore the tug to glance at the blank spaces on the walls where portrait frames used to hang. _

_No. She reminded herself. No portraits here. This was her new apartment. No one lived here except her. Only her._

_Her bright blue eyes flashed in the dark catching light from a passing cop car's lights. The sound of sirens flooded the room for a split second before fading in the distance. But the moment allowed the woman just enough time to once again assess her living space. Besides the dirt and unwashed dishes next to empty liquor bottles was the table she had picked up from a dumpster. She had fashioned a fourth leg out of an old broom handle with duct tape. Only one chair stood there. The sink was filled with more empty food containers. The air unit didn't always work and the windows had a habit of sticking, but she called it home. _

_One more drink wouldn't kill her. She finished another gulp and stumbled her way back towards the bedroom. The girl left naked on the bed had drawn up the sheets and had curled into a ball on the mattress. With a sigh, the tall blonde gave the other woman a little push to make room for herself as she climbed in. _

"_Hey." The girl said groggily, now roused from her post-sex daze._

"_Hmm." The golden haired beauty responded laconically with disinterest. _

"_What's your name?"_

_A pause, but no response._

"_It's cool, never mind. You're just the most amazing lay I've had in a really long time." The girl murmured into the pillow. _

_Another pause. _

_Finally the blonde took a deep breath, one filled with the same amount of passion as the previous "Hmm" a moment ago. "Pierce."_

"_Pierce? I like that. My name's-"_

"_Forget it. Go to sleep." Brittany cut the girl off before she could complete her name. It was better not to give bodies names. When they woke up in the morning, they could go their separate ways and not have to ever speak again. It was less painful that way. _

* * *

Puck buzzed Brittany's apartment, unsurprised when he got no answer, so he waited until someone walked up. He flashed his badge and they let him in. He tried not to think about how wretched this place was and how many times it had been involved in busts. Really Brittany couldn't have chosen a greater shit hole to move into. Memories of her old place flashed through his mind. Now that had been an apartment. The kind that had been perfect - pictures on the walls, frames holding everything and everyone she had loved, that stupid fat cat she had brought from back home, and so many other things.

Not anymore.

Now he had to track her down and make a trek into Shit Town to bring her in. She was going to freak. Besides after Macklin had kicked her out of the station two months ago, Britt and Puck hadn't been talking. Apparently some of the blame had fallen on his shoulders in her mind. Not that Puck could argue. But when push came to shove, Brittany had been spiraling down for a pretty long time now. Maybe he shouldn't have been so fast to kick her out of his life too.

But it was too late for that now.

He walked up four flights of stairs, making sure not to touch the handrails. Once he reached her floor, Puck adjusted his jacket once again and ran his hand over his buzzed head. A quick glance to his phone said it was just after 6:00 a.m. which meant he was just in time to wake her ass up and drag her down to the station. If this was any other situation, Brittany would probably have been pissed at Puck, but eventually let it go after some breakfast. But for this call?

Puck felt anxious as he pounded on the door. After a few seconds and no response, Puck hit his fist against the door a little louder.

"Brittany, open up! We don't have time for this shit today."

No response.

He pulled out his phone and called her cell phone. It rang a few times then went to her voice mail. Still no response.

"Fuck." He tried the handle this time and to his surprise, the knob turned and the door didn't stop at a chain. In fact, it swung open with ease. Disbelief spread across his face. He murmured to himself. "You've got to be kidding. Not even locking your fucking door."

She was going to get herself killed with this reckless behavior. Puck shook his head and stepped out of the hallway and instantly stumbled over some clothes throw haphazardly onto the floor. "Shit, Pierce, you've really let yourself go."

The place was a mess. Empty bottles, discarded trash, and clothes were scattered all over the floor and hung from lights and over furniture – what little furniture there was.

A noise startled him from his disgust.

He reached behind his back and unbuckled the strap across his gun. Holding on, he took a few more steps into the utter darkness of her apartment. Brittany definitely wouldn't be safe if the Midnight Strangler, or whatever the media was calling the fucker now,was back and killing again. Everyone knew of her involvement in the case when the killing had started years ago. If Puck had to bet, Brittany would be on the killer's list of targets.

Another noise, but this one sounded more like a moan and then sheets rustling. Puck let go of a breath. Just a body on the bed. He took another step forward and flicked on the light. It sputtered for a moment before maintaining light. It revealed more clothes and less organization than the hallway. Puck could barely tell the bed apart from the mess on the rest of the floor. It looked like half of Brittany's clothes were now being used as covers.

"Disgusting." Puck muttered.

The sheets moved again as hands pulled on the covers and clothes to hide from the light. Now Puck realized that the bed contained more than just one body. Great.

"Pierce! Get the fuck up! Chief needs you down at the station. It's not good."

One body moved, but it wasn't the blonde. In fact, it was some tight petite brunette with a killer rack. Puck had to stop himself from giving Brittany a high five. No matter how shitty her life had gotten, the girl still knew how to pick 'em and bring 'em home. Puck didn't like to admit it, but Britt probably picked up more women than he did and he had that whole sexy, distant, cop thing going for him at the bars that chicks dug.

The girl groaned and blinked at the light then at Puck with confusion. "Hi."

"Hey, sweetheart. Don't worry about me. I'm just going to take my friend here down to the police station. So why don't you get dressed and I'll give you money for a cab."

"Oh." The woman said looking disappointed, but she got out of the bed, letting the covers spill from her body. Damn. Puck ducked his head to give her some privacy after a lingering gaze to her naked backside. After a few minutes she had successfully found most of her clothes and shuffled at the edge of the bed. Puck reached into his wallet and passed her a few bills. She looked at the bills, then at him. "I'm fine. Thanks anyway, but can you give her this?"

The woman slipped him a small piece of paper which Puck could only imagine was her phone number. Yeah, like Brittany would need that. But Puck smiled and nodded taking the paper. "Of course."

He waited till the door closed before he kicked the side of the bed dropping the phone number to the floor as he did so. "Britt, get the fuck up now. This is important. I can't wait for you to sober up like we usually do. You're gonna have to suck it up and get up now."

"Fuck off, Puckerman." A voice croaked from beneath the sheets and rolled away from him.

"Oh no, you're not doing this." Puck leaned over the bed and ripped the covers from her. Unfortunately, she was completely naked. He whipped around and faced the wall so fast. "Shit! Get some fucking clothes on. It's important…please…"

Perhaps it was the lack of protection and covers, or perhaps it was the drop in Puck's voice, but Brittany forced herself to sit up.

"What could be so important that you had to wake me up at this god awful hour?"

Puck looked around on the floor and found a discarded shirt. He picked it up and threw it at Brittany so she could at least have some covering on. The man had no problem ogling at his friend's slam piece for the night, but to look at Britt naked would be just wrong. Too much history.

"I'm dressed. Now tell me what's happened." Brittany said with those piercing blue eyes. Puck shuffled for a moment.

"There's been a murder." Puck said still trying to collect his thoughts.

"There's always a murder. Why does Macklin need me though? I thought he kicked me out of the station and told me to never come back."

"Yeah and he meant it after all that trouble you put the department through." Puck shot back fast. Perhaps too quickly by the look of dejection on Brittany's face. "But he needs you back. A young girl was murdered and left to be found all fucked up in the throat. You know like…"

Brittany's face instantly dropped. Even if she was still a little drunk, she knew exactly why Puck had trailed off. She didn't need him to say anything else.

"Fuck." Brittany buried her face in her hands.

"Britt, you gonna be able to handle this?" Puck took a step forward wanting to comfort her, but a hand pushed him back.

"Yeah. Fuck. I need a shower and to get dressed." Brittany stood up. "Are they sure, Noah? Please tell me it's not true."

Puck shook his head. "Macklin wouldn't let me near the body. That's how convinced he was that the killer is back. He didn't want to set me off."

Brittany nodded. "I don't have any food, but help yourself to a beer in the fridge. I won't be long."

The blonde walked out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. Puck sat down in the kitchen and looked through the fridge. Brittany hadn't been kidding. He closed the door and looked around. Empty bottles were lined throughout here as well. Picking up the whiskey from the table, he took a whiff and raised it to his lips, but stopped before drinking. If he was going to be with Brittany, one of them had to be in control.

Twenty minutes later the blonde walked into the kitchen. Her hair was shorter than it had been in high school, but still stylishly cut. She wore her normal outfit – dark pants, fitted white button-down unbuttoned at the top, loosely fitted black tie, and that hat. Puck had been with Britt enough to know that when she turned it on, the whole room stopped – men and women. She shrugged into a leather jacket and nodded to the bottle on the counter.

"Britt, it's like seven in the morning."

"Pass it. I'm going to need it." Puck paused, but relented as he reluctantly handed over the bottle. He watched her finish the last of it in one long chug. Bringing Brittany onto the case had to be the worst idea. She was barely able to function without being reminded of the mother fucker who had turned her whole life to shit. No, the Strangler hadn't killed her, but because of that serial killer, Brittany's life had gone from perfect to shit in a matter of a year.

"Let's go before Macklin kicks me off the case before I even get to the station. He's gonna need me."

"I know, Britt, I know."

* * *

Puck held the door open to the police station for Brittany. The blonde walked in with her head held high despite the high volume of outright stares. Some didn't know who she was and just thought she had to be the hottest hooker Puck had ever brought in. Others who did know the blonde P.I. shook their heads in disbelief that she could even walk into the station without handcuffs.

"Puck, what are you doing?" Another officer grabbed at Puck's jacket. "Macklin's gonna kill you when he finds out who you brought back in here."

"She's fine, Rick. Back off." Puck shrugged out of the hold.

Brittany couldn't help but lift her head up in a mocking gesture towards Rick. "You weren't complaining the last time I came in here."

The man flushed a bit and muttered something dark under his breath before turning to leave in the opposite direction.

"You didn't have to say anything." Puck pushed the blonde forward through security. "It's bad enough you started the whole mess sleeping with half the department."

Brittany shrugged in response. Not her problem. "Doesn't matter. I'm here for the Strangler and nothing else. I want to catch this guy and make him suffer. If Macklin can't cut me in on the case then I am going to fuck your department over again except this time it will be public and not pleasurable since I will find and solve the murder by myself."

"Britt." Puck said slowly turning her around to look her in the eyes. "You know I won't let you do that. Splitting up and working the case separately was the reason so many things went wrong the last time."

For a moment those blue eyes softened as if remembering the past and Puck could almost see the old Brittany, the one who cared about other people more than she did about putting on clothes to step outside. The Brittany who had come to New York to start an amazing life with the girl she loved so much. That sweet innocent Brittany who knew that it didn't matter how difficult the case or problem presented, they would be able to solve it.

Soft blue turned ice cold in a second.

"We don't talk about that."

"Sure, Britt. I know…I just thought…"

"Let's not keep your boss waiting any longer." Brittany walked through the department turning heads everywhere. They all knew why she was here, but none looked too pleased to see the blonde. She didn't care or pretended not to notice. Upon seeing the coffee pot, Brittany worked her way over and poured herself a cup with generous helpings of sugar and cream. Despite the show she was putting on for the department and Puck, her head still spun from last night and a few swigs of whiskey this morning hadn't helped. God, she would need more before the end of the day.

"Debriefing in the conference room. Now." Macklin's voice boomed throughout the office. Everyone stepped quickly towards the meeting place. No one lingered in the common area except for Macklin in the doorframe and Brittany still sipping at her coffee. They made eye contact. For a moment, the temperature in the room seemed to rise, but Brittany was the first to incline her head in acknowledgement of Macklin's position and authority. The chief nodded back before walking away through the door.

"Behave yourself. You burned a lot of people last time you were here." Puck whispered from behind.

"I know." Brittany chugged the last of the coffee, not caring that she burnt her throat, then poured another. The two walked into the conference room together leaving behind the desk jockeys, the interns, and people not involved in the case. This was for the big boys.

* * *

"What we know is that this is either the Midnight Strangler killer or a copy cat. It's unmistakable if not a little shaky and sloppier than the last known kill from four years ago. This is why we cannot rule out the possibility of a copy cat killer. For those of you unfamiliar with the case, this was not the department's finest hour. We did not catch him and the killings stopped of their own accord with nothing to do with us. You'll find information with a brief history of the last time these murders started in your handouts."

Macklin clicked the slide to the body of the victim found last night. "Anna Robinson, age 19 was found last nightstrangled and then her vocal chords removed. The killer then places then in the victim's hands to pose them."

Brittany tensed at the sight. Puck felt for her hand next to his. Surprisingly, the blonde accepted the gesture. Their fingers interlocked.

"We know our killer likes to take his time and present the victim in a final pose holding her throat every time. I have already called the feds." The room groaned a little and looked around. "I know how many of you feel, but the last time this killer roamed, we were barely able to contain the panic much less pinpoint anything about him. I want the few of you who worked this case last time to go over your reports and give them to fresh eyes. We will have teams re-interviewing witnesses and suspects. We will be working with the feds to create a new profile since we still don't know if this is a copy cat killer."

"I have assignments posted up here and team leads have already been debriefed. I don't think I have to tell you, but I want to catch this guy before he can do any more damage. If this is the same killer, we know that he has already chosen his next victim." People started to move towards their assignments. "Puck. Pierce. My office now."

Their hands instantly disconnected as they stood. The moment would never be mentioned or thought of again. They followed Macklin into the office.

"Close the door and draw the shades, Puckerman." Macklin said no longer with the same considerate voice of compassion he had used last night at the crime scene. Puck immediately did as he was ordered before sitting down in front of his boss' desk next to Brittany.

"I know this is a very personal case for the both of you. I have already discussed Noah's involvement and I have decided that it is best if he works on the case under strict supervision. I do not want to see you becoming a loose cannon. We can't afford any reckless or passionate behavior." Macklin narrowed his eyes at the man. Puck hadn't expected this kind of trust and nodded, truly grateful. He wanted more than anything to be on this case.

Vengeance? Yes.

Stopping this asshole before anyone else got killed? More important.

"I won't let you down, sir."

"Don't make promises so quickly, son." Macklin said and turned to Brittany. "After your behavior, I never wanted to see you again, but everything's changed because of last night. I don't want this to be a repeat of last time. I think we can all agree on that. I need you to help. Four years ago, you and your partner were able to get the closest to the killer. Unfortunately, a lot of communication breakdown destroyed any opportunity we had of using your information to catch him. I don't want to make that mistake again. We can work together, on the condition that you regularly check in at the station and make promises to not go after this guy on your own. I know the history you have with this case and why you would want to take care of him without the police involvement. Don't do anything stupid."

Brittany remained silent, but didn't look away from his intense stare. She knew what was at stake – maybe if they got this guy everything could go back to the way it had been. Before…

"Pierce! Are you listening? I am making Puck in charge of you. If you fuck up, it will hang on his head."

"What!" Puck shot up in his seat and leaned forward. "Chief! Are you serious?"

Brittany didn't respond.

"What, you don't trust your friend, Noah? I am not saying that you have to babysit her, but if she fucks up and doesn't report in then you are off the case as well."

"I understand." Brittany whispered softly.

"Do you, Brittany? Do you not remember how I found you this morning?" Puck now turned to the blonde.

She shot right back. "Everything's different now. I want this fucker more than anything. I'm not about to waste my opportunity. I will find him."

Puck fell back to his seat shaken with emotion and the look behind those blue eyes. He didn't know if the intensity comforted or scared him. Fuck. He was so fucked.

"Glad we could get that out of the way." Macklin stood up and opened the door to his office. "One last thing, Pierce, I don't want you fucking everyone in my department again. That didn't end well last time. And I almost locked you up. I won't hesitate next time to throw you into a detention cell."

Brittany walked past him, eyes still defiant to the end. "Can't promise they won't try to sleep with me. I doubt even half of them learned their lesson from last time."

Macklin's face drew tight with anger, but let the comment go. His hand shot to Puck's chest as the man tried to walk by. "Her shit's now your shit. So you better find a way to deal with her."

* * *

They spent the rest of the day in meetings and going over old reports. Someone had gone into the archives to try to retrieve the box of evidence from Brittany's old case files, but hadn't come up with anything. Brittany had told Puck not to worry about finding them. Something about the way she had said it made Puck think the blonde had something to do with their disappearance. He frowned, but didn't confront her about it. They had to maintain a good relationship now that "her shit was his shit" or whatever Macklin had been babbling about.

Brittany walked ahead of him out of the last meeting for the day. It was about five in the afternoon and she had told him that she needed a drink desperately or she would probably go off on someone. Puck had suggested they hit one of his favorite dives for a bite and a beer. Brittany knew why Puck had offered. He didn't want her to start drinking by herself, but god how she needed something. All day she had been assailed with memories and pictures from four years ago. All those victims, but one in particular still made her stomach turn and her hands shake.

"Nice to see your fine ass back in the station, Pierce." A voice called from one of the desks. Brittany politely flicked him off without another word. In the same motion, she suggestively winked to the girl next to him. Brittany had never seen her before. Puck saw the gesture and pushed his way up to her.

"Don't even think about it."

"About what?"

"You heard Macklin. No fucking everyone this time. Besides, I've been trying to talk to the new girl for the past two weeks. So I already called dibs on her."

Brittany opened her mouth to respond when she caught a familiar scent in the air like a physical blow. She stiffened at the smell, but even more at the sound that followed. A laugh so unabashed, so natural, so beautiful that it struck at all her chords. Her body tensed as she looked around frantically for the source of the sound.

She saw those legs first – bronze, toned, and provocatively swinging as they crossed each other underneath a black pencil skirt. The woman leaned forward gently pressing perfectly manicured fingernails against one cop's shirt in a confident, flirtatious manner. Her shirt was the perfect business sexy attire. It showed just enough cleavage to remind anyone who wasn't blind how incredibly attractive she was. It hugged all the right curves and accentuated her in a way that complemented her amazing body, but also drew the eyes upwards.

Again the woman laughed, but her eyes slid sideways. Dark almond eyes that caught the light and sparkled deep dark intentions towards Brittany. The blonde's heart stopped as she stood riveted to the spot.

Santana.

She could tell that Santana also hadn't expected to see Brittany as her laughter caught off prematurely. Neither could pull their eyes away from the other. It seemed the entire station stopped moving as they were the only people there. Brittany felt Puck touch her arm. His voice seemed so distant. "What's wrong?"

But even he stopped as he caught sight of the Latina bombshell sitting so comfortably on one of his friend's desk.

"What's she doing here?" Brittany whispered unsure what she felt. Her stomach had tied into knots and it felt like someone had shoved something down her throat.

"I swear I didn't know."

Santana shifted to stand from the desk and made a step in Brittany's direction. Finally the flood of emotions that had been building suddenly burst inside her chest. Pain, dejection, and betrayal flashed across the blonde's face as she whipped around in the opposite direction. She flew through the department knocking over paperwork and pushing through unsuspecting bystanders. Puck followed muttering curses. He could have sworn he heard heels tapping after them as well.

Brittany flung the door open to Macklin's office unconcerned that he was on the phone and in the middle of probably an important call.

"Tell me why the fuck you called her in here without even asking me!" The blonde demanded pointing out into the direction of the common area.

"I take it that Miss Lopez has successfully arrived from the airport to report in. Good. Glad to see she could make the flight." Macklin said coolly as he placed the phone down and pretended to be unperturbed at the interruption. Only the first day and hot-head blonde P.I. had her panties in a twist. Macklin had a bet going that she wouldn't last another day on the case before he had to kick her off.

"What the fuck are you talking about and sitting there so calmly?"

Puck walked in just in time to hear Brittany rattle off another cuss at his boss. Shit. This wouldn't go well. He could hear the clicking of heels stop just behind him and Puck knew Santana was standing right there. "Britt, please just calm down."

"No, fuck that, Puck! Did you know that she would be coming and no one thought to tell me?"

"Pierce, enough of this." Macklin boomed now standing from his desk and placing his fists on the table. "I called her in last night before I talked to Noah. I thought that if we were going to put together the best team for solving these murders that it would be best to call her back in since she was the one who originally tried to help you solve the murders. Trust me…It wasn't easy to convince her to take the last flight to fly out here from California. She was just as reluctant to come back here as you are to work with her. But I won't tolerate this behavior. This will not be a repeat of last time!"

His voice echoed throughout the open door of his office. Their argument now had the attention of the entire department as they stopped and looked towards scene not daring to move or make another noise. Brittany fumed still unsure what her feelings were trying to communicate.

"Nice to see you too, Brittany." A low voice that felt like velvet and hurt like sandpaper, called from the opened door. Puck moved to the side so Brittany could see Santana leaning so casually against the doorframe.

For as fucked up as Brittany felt, Santana looked the opposite. Her hair hung in perfect waves down her face. She looked like the lawyer she had always wanted to be – had been studying to be when she had left New York for the west coast without Brittany.

Hearing Santana say her name after four years felt both so good and so painful. Brittany had tried every night to not think of her, to not murmur her name into the pillow and wish the body sleeping next to hers was Santana. Brittany wanted to scream and throw herself at the caramel skin beauty, but she didn't know what she would do afterwards. Hit her? Kiss her? Cry? So many emotions welled up.

Instead the blonde looked away from Santana to Puck to Macklin with such pain that Puck almost reached over to hold her. But Brittany never gave him the chance; she stormed out of the office. Her shoulder brushed against Santana's as she did so. The momentary contact forced a small noise from Brittany's lips. She didn't care if Santana heard it or not.

Air. She needed air. Out of the office, Brittany reached through her clothes looking for something to calm her nerves.

Anything that would make her forget how beautiful and stunning Santana looked.

Anything that would make her forget how betrayed, abandoned, and guilty Santana made her feel.

* * *

**Please tell me what you think! I would love feedback! Are you guys interested?**

**Thank you and have a great week!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for such awesome responses to the first chapter. It made my week seeing the reviews, alerts, and adds! I feel like I am definitely doing something right since there were so many questions from you guys and strong reactions to the material. **

**But…**

**I can't answer any of those questions yet! But I can say you guys are asking the right ones. I intend to make a fully fleshed out story so you'll all have to bear with me as these details are eventually revealed throughout the narrative.**

**The one question I can address is the one about where this story fits. It does follow the "tv" characters San and Britt so they did go to McKinley High School and they were cheerios, glee members, all their friends were the same, etc. The only thing I have changed/made canon involves their history with mystery solving. Thus the ties to my previous story **_**Lord Tubbington: Private Eye**_**. The girls solved a few mysteries during high school in good campy fun. As I was writing that light-hearted fic, I decided that I wanted to write something darker thus **_**Sirens**_**. But glee canon DID happen. This story takes place years after high school. **

**Thank you for the question! Sorry if that wasn't clear!**

**Again I am disclaiming the shit out of my story. Hahaha So without further delay, I present for your viewing pleasure…**

* * *

**Sirens**

**Chapter 2**

Brittany found her emergency pack of cigarettes tucked into the inner pocket of her jacket and pulled it out with a shaking hand. Sure, she had said over and over again that she would quit, but Santana's voice still echoed through her head.

_Nice to see you too, Brittany. Nice to see you too, Brittany. Nice to see you too, Brittany. _

"Fuck."

She muttered to herselfas she looked around her pockets once again, this time for a lighter. A flame flicked to life in front of her face. Brittany sighed in relief, not bothering to see who it came from.

A man's voice spoke with both familiarity and a distinct patronizing tone. "I thought you were giving those things up. At least, you were last time I spoke to you with our lawyers present."

Britt's blue eyes left the light and went to the source. A man stood with a smug expression on his face in a police uniform looking crisp, clean cut, and everything every a girl ever wanted in a man.

Derek Greene.

He stood there looking so arrogant with his perfect, wavy, dirty blonde hair that bordered on light brown and those green eyes that made girls' hearts melt. Brittany felt like flicking her cigarette at him. Great. Another asshole from the department. Like she really needed this after seeing Santana for the first time in four years.

"Fuck off."

"I can see that all that therapy is really helping."

"I don't need it to help. I just need it to help me look sane enough to keep my license."

"Yeah with that kind of attitude it's a total wonder they had to make you take a few extra sessions."

Brittany bristled at the man's words and finally tossed her cigarette to the ground ready to round on the guy. She took a threatening step in his direction with the intention to give Derek an idea about how she really wanted to talk to him. Her arm lifted as her fingers curled into a fist. It would feel so good to hit something after the day she had. Anticipation tingled throughout her body as her fist parted air in the direction of Derek's face.

Her fist stopped only halfway towards its final destination. A strong hand grasped her wrist from behind and pushed her away from the front door and Derek. Britt didn't have to look behind to know that her babysitter had finally arrived to make sure that she hadn't gone postal yet. Perhaps it was a good thing too. Derek always knew how to set her off.

"Come on, B. How about I buy you that drink now and we get you some food?"

"Lay off, Puck! I don't need a nanny holding my hand and walking me down the street."

"Bullshit. Obviously you need someone. So like it or not, I am going to nanny the shit out of you until you can function again before we both get kicked off this case." Puck did finally let her go, but only after he made sure they were definitely walking away from the station. He didn't feel like dragging Brittany off Derek's body just so the punk could take her back to court. "I thought you said you wouldn't talk to that asshole anymore."

"It wasn't a choice." Brittany shrugged her leather jacket back into place and readjusted her black hat. Her tie had shifted from its casual position so she decided to remove it and stuff it into her pocket. Uncomfortable and itching from not getting to take that swing at Derek, Brittany undid two more buttons on her shirt. "He just popped up. You know how great his timing is - just fucking impeccable."

"Yeah I know, just be careful, B. You know that you're on a short leash with Macklin, but an even shorter leash with the court and court orders. You can't be seen talking to that asshole. And you sure as fuck can't be throwing punches in his direction. You know that's exactly what he wants. "

"I know, Puck. I know. Just get me the fuck out of here and get me that beer."

"Yeah, sure, kid."

"You know this wasn't how I planned my day."

"Me neither."

* * *

They walked another two blocks to the familiar bar that most of the precinct went to after their shifts. It was named after the Pennsylvania state bird, The Ruffed Grouse. Not exactly the most appealing of names, but then again it didn't try to advertise itself. The owner had been a former cop himself and therefore only wanted a certain type of clientele. Sure, it had that stereotypical smoky dive feel, but it provided a haven for cops to blow off some steam before they went home. For the past few years, Brittany and Puck had been regular customers. Well, that had been true until a few months ago.

Once word had spread that Brittany Pierce was no longer a welcomed consultant and trusted P.I. at the precinct from the mouth of Captain Macklin, the Grouse hadn't exactly kicked her out, but it did make it hard coming to drink there. One night when she had been getting drunk by herself at the bar, a few of the guys had decided to egg her on until Brittany had taken a swing. After that, the owner had her tossed out. Britt knew the real reason they had kicked her out. It wasn't a good policy to piss off the police chief. She took the hint and hadn't returned since.

Puck opened the door for Brittany. The blonde didn't even bother to check out the faces. There were always familiar ones, but she didn't want to have to talk to anyone. A group of men playing pool made gestures in her general direction. One even stood up to make sure Brittany wouldn't get to the bar, but Puck silently gave most of the Grouse a glare.

She was with him.

They took the hint.

Brittany pretended that she hadn't noticed the silent showdown or the fact that she had been so unwelcomed. She needed a drink. She needed one bad.

"Two of the usual." Puck sat down on the barstool next to Britt. The blonde ignored him until the barkeeper returned with the glasses. Two seven and sevens. Mostly just the whiskey part with only the tiniest drops of Seven-up.

"Better stay here for a moment. We'll need refills. What should we toast to?" She lifted her glass and waited for Puck to lift his. Her voice held bitter and painful memories. "How about old friends? I mean that is why we are all being united again right? You would have probably never talked to me again if it hadn't been for the return of the Strangler. Because we both know how far up Macklin's ass you are. And if you wouldn't have collected me this morning, on Macklin's orders, I would have never run into my ex. The same ex whom I haven't seen in four years and of course I wouldn't have run into Derek on the way out of the station while running from her. What a great day."

Puck didn't bother to hide his expression. His mouth had drawn tight into a thin line turning downwards into a frown. This did not bode well. But he didn't cut her off.

Brittany continued. "So let's toast to friends. Cause that's all we can hope for in this miserable life. The sad hope that we can make friends who will eventually abandon you and then stab you in the back. Or cut you off from your life. Or fuck it, many they'll choke you multiple times before leaving you strung up on display to fulfill some sick fantasy for their perverted pleasure. And in case you're wondering, I'm not even sure if I am talking about the killer or Santana or you or Derek anymore."

She clinked his glass rather forcefully. Puck tried not to cringe at the noise or the flippant word that came with it as Brittany said with scorn, "Cheers."

The blonde threw back the entire drink without flinching and gave the bartender a signal to fill it up again. The man hesitated for a moment, but Puck gestured that he should just do it. Brittany tried not to frown at the exchange. Puck's mouth lingered at the glass as he chose not to take the drink like a shot. Perhaps it would be smarter to retain his full facilities around Brittany. Or at least be more sober than she.

"It doesn't have to be like this." Puck said slowly, not raising his voice. Brittany was already a powder keg waiting to be lit. Now wouldn't be smart to start a fight.

"Oh? So how do you think it should be, Noah?" Brittany asked, already finishing the second drink and making the indication that the barkeep should fill her again. This time he didn't look to Puck, but filled the glass before walking away. Conveniently, the bottle of whiskey remained firmly situated on the counter.

"Shit, Britt, I don't know, but you can't let them get to you like this. I know shit got real fucked up last time, but you don't have to keep going like this. We both know Santana loved-loves you. She has to. I mean I remember how it used to be. She would have killed someone just to be with you. That kind of love doesn't just go away." Puck didn't want to start anything, but he needed Brittany to get over this shock before they started working on the case. "Maybe she felt some of that today. I mean after all those years you guys spent together…she's got to feel something, right?"

Brittany turned her glass staring at the dark liquid inside while mulling over thoughts. Not the words Puck had just spoken. Frankly, she had heard his pep talk far too many times. It had gotten stale.

"Yeah I'm sure she still loves me. That's why she left when it got bad. And just walks back into my life like it's nothing, not even blinking an eye,standing there at the fucking door so casual."

Puck remembered when it had gotten bad. Santana did leave and no matter how abandoned Puck had felt when the brunette got on that plane, it paled in comparison to the way Brittany had taken the blow. Even back in high school everyone knew by the end of senior year, the two cheerios that had collectively fucked or made out with the entire school were soul mates. The real kind. But he also understood why Santana had left. Blame needed to be equally dispersed. But it never was. Brittany had disassociated guilt and cause from herself. It was far easier to place culpability on Santana who lived on the other side of the States.

_Nice to see you too, Brittany._ Santana's words crept up again.

Brittany snorted into the liquid. It rippled with her derision before she drank from it again. The bottle sat on the counter so Brittany helped herself another. She looked at Puck's glass and topped his off too. "Drink up, Puckerman. It's gonna be a long night. We've got demons to expel."

Puck sighed before finally finishing his own drink and letting Brittany refill it. "That's what I was worried about. Some demons should stay dead and buried."

"I'll drink to that."

And they did.

* * *

"Fuck it, Pierce. You can't make that shot." Puck slurred as he leaned hard against the pool table taking another sip of his beer.

"You seem to say that a lot. I can remember quite a few ti-times when you said I couldn't make a shot and boom! I alw-ways makes it." Brittany bent over the billiards table with the stick out-stretched, taking aim at a ball. Her blue eyes were completely occupied with the game at hand. A few of the cops from earlier stood around the table encouraging her while talking shit about Noah. Apparently he had a reputation for betting high even when everyone knew it wasn't his best game.

"I'll raise the stakes and double down. Let's see if you can make that shot." Puck snorted with laughter and slapped down a few more bills to the side of the table.

"Be ready to pay me then." Brittany might have been intoxicated, but she had hustled pool for awhile when times had gotten real bad after Santana had left. She hadn't been working at all and the only way the blonde had been able to pay her alcohol tabs had been by playing billiards. Needless to say, she had the shot.

What she didn't have was time to prepare for what would come through the door of the Ruffed Grouse next.

Again, Brittany smelled her first. Fresh. Powerful. Smooth.

She blinked hard and jerked at the scent the moment she had taken the shot.

"Fuck." Brittany cussed under her breath as she felt the ball hit wrong. She didn't need to look to know that she had just lost to Puck. Digging into her pocket, Britt pulled out the money and forked it over. Already she was too occupied to care.

Across the bar, Santana moved with elegance and grace between tables, stares, and chairs to a barstool at the counter. Brittany leaned forward on her stick trying not to make it painfully obvious that she was staring at her ex.

What was Santana doing here? Santana had never gone here before with Brittany. The blonde had only started to come to the Ruffed Grouse after the brunette had run off to the west coast.

Fuck she looked good. Still in that tight skirt, Santana looked like she belonged at a club or some swank uptown bar. How could she just blow back into the city without even a word? Why the fuck would Macklin put Brittany through this torture?

All these thoughts ran through the blonde's head as she continued to stand there next to a pillar in the shadows of the bar. Alcohol coursed through her system not making it any easier to ignore the Latina who had just entered.

Crack!

A loud noise right underneath her snapped the blonde away from all her thoughts. She now held only half a pool stick. So absorbed, Brittany hadn't noticed that she had been bending the stick to the point it would crack. But it had.

Puck looked up from his game and noticed the P.I. holding half a stick and then followed her eyes to Santana sitting at the other end of the bar.

Great.

"Come on, B. I think it's time for us to leave."

Brittany finally tore her eyes away from Santana's back and felt Puck tugging at her shirt. For a moment, Britt allowed him to steer her backwards until she realized what he was saying. She yanked back. "No! This is my bar. She can't just come back here and ruin it for me. I like it here. It's dark and gives me drinks. It might not be clean but it doesn't care about the dishes or the food containers or that I don't do my laundry. I don't care how nice it is at her other bars! Or how good those bars look especially with perfect tans and dresses, but I am not leaving!"

Puck might have had a few drinks, but he was certainly in better shape than Brittany. She was barely making sense. "Britt, are you talking about the Grouse or are you talking about something else…like the fact that she went to California?"

A deep red spread through her cheeks, but Brittany refused to admit when Puck was right. "Back off, Puck. Of course I am talking about the bar! What else could I be talking about? She can't just come in here and flash her L.A. style and expect everyone to bend over and bow."

And yet, Puck could observe the way the barkeep moved behind the bar with extra urgency to make Santana's drink. Two guys were already making bets in the corner while another moved to conveniently sit next to the Latina to offer to pay for her drink.

Brittany didn't have to want it or like it, but it seemed as if the whole world did stop for Santana Lopez.

"Come on, Britt. I'll re-rack."

"Yeah, do that. I'll get another drink."

Puck stopped touching the table and handed Brittany his stick. "How about I get the drinks? Nelson, you wanna take the blonde haired monster on?"

A man who had been lingering over in the corner nodded and walked up to the table gathering the balls. "Sure, I've been waiting to get payback. Gotta earn my money back somehow before I go home to the wife."

Brittany hesitated for a moment. Maybe she realized that Puck didn't want her anywhere near Santana. Manipulation is a bitch. "Fine."

Puck nodded to Nelson. Sure, Britt was a few drinks in. Well, maybe more than a few. Shit. Somehow he would have to move Santana out of the Grouse without having the whole night blow up into a brawl or something much worse. They all had to work together. He moved through the bar and arrived at the counter at the same time another cop showed up with a drink for Santana.

"I got this, Puck." The man said under his breath. Clearly, the other officer thought Puck meant to make a move on the Latina. The words or their meaning didn't escape Santana's hearing. The brunette smiled while making easy eye contact with her old friend from behind the police officer's head.

"No, you don't understand. You're not gonna _get _this one. I've had experience with her before." Puck said taking the man's drink and sliding it to Santana smoothly.

"Well, you've had your chance and clearly blew it. So I think I can handle it from here. Alright, Puckerman?"

Puck laughed lightly. "Trust me. She's not all that into our kind. We're not exactly her type, if you know what I mean."

"What you have a problem with a man in uniform?" He flashed Santana a charming smile. The woman only smirked in response. Her fingers ran smoothly around the rim of the drink. She blinked a few times allowing her long lashes to flirt with the man if only to make the situation just that more interesting. It was funnier to let Puck handle the miscommunication as to clarify what she found attractive.

"It's not the uniform part she has a problem with, but the man part." Puck gave him a wink and a shrug as if agreeing that it was a shame Santana wasn't into men. "So if you don't mind, I think it's time for you to leave."

He did a double take towards Santana and shook his head. Santana lightly smiled back. She shrugged before inclining her head to indicate that Puck was speaking the truth. "Shit. Well cheers to you both."

Santana gave him a tiny wave and raised her own drink to bid him good-bye. Puck moved into the barstool the man had vacated. Before he had even settled, the bartender had placed a drink down in front of him. Puck silently thanked the man before turning to Santana. The brunette's beautiful eyes sparkled with amusement, but beneath the smile, Puck sensed the time that had passed. Four long, very long years separated them.

"Santana…" Puck began trying hard not to get lost in her eyes, but she saved him the embarrassment of getting tongue-tied. She reached forward and kissed his cheek lightly. The light touch of her lips made the grown man flush with familiarity. He lounged forward and grasped her by the shoulders. He drew her into a great hug. To his great relief and comfort, Santana's body relaxed and melted into her old friend's squeeze.

For a few more moments they just held each other as if they could stay like that until everything was right again. They could forget the real reason they were together now. Finally Puck pulled away.

"Hey pretty lady, you know I missed you."

"I doubt it." Santana said with a wink. "I know how hard it is for you to pick up women so I'm sure it's only going to get harder with me around."

Puck laughed. Probably harder than he normally would have, but it was so good to hear Santana hadn't lost her quick tongue and that sense of humor. As he was wiping his eyes from tears he hadn't noticed at first, Santana put her drink down on the counter and continued to talk.

Her voice dropped to a softer tone; one full of intimacy. "Thank you, Noah. I really needed someone to…well…to be here. I know when I left it wasn't the best time or easy…" He glanced towards the blonde playing pool. "…for anyone. I-"

She choked and turned away. Puck frowned but reached over to put his hand over hers. For a few moments his thumb stroked her fingers. "We don't have to talk about it, Tan, not now. It's just nice to see you and know you're alive."

Laughing she pulled away from him and took another sip of her drink. "I'm too much of a bitch to worry about. No one will be killing me anytime soon."

"Trust me. I know. You're still the biggest badass I know. Even while working the streets. You're still my number one."

Santana laughed again, but stopped when she noticed the blonde in the corner had stiffened at the sound. Again the mood between them shifted. Dark eyes never left Brittany's back as she asked. "Is she okay? Does she talk about me? How has she been?"

Puck knocked back the rest of his drink and ordered another before answering. "Quite a lot of questions, Tana. I can tell you that she's alive and dealing with life as it comes at her. She doesn't talk about you or really anything like that. She sticks mostly with casework or finding new leads."

Perhaps she should have expected that answer, but Santana couldn't help feeling slightly put off by the information. Not a day passed when she didn't think about Brittany and the life she had left behind. "Is she still at the studio?"

"No." Puck said curtly, but continued. "I'm pretty sure she sold the dance studio and the office."

Santana didn't say anything, but her eyes stared off to another time and another place. Puck almost felt like he was infringing on something personal so he let her go before continuing. "Britt gave up the dancing, but she still works cases from her house. I haven't been on a case with her in awhile, but I think she meets with clients at like Starbucks or something."

"Thanks, Puck." Santana sighed before looking at the blonde's back again. "Do you think she'll talk to me?"

She heard Puck suck in air. "I don't know, Santana, it hasn't been easy for her."

"It hasn't been easy for me either." Santana spit back.

"But you're not the one who was left behind." Puck shot just as quickly. Santana simmered, but didn't respond right away. Puck had a point. "Just give her some time, Tan. Besides, I don't think she wants to get hurt again. I mean how long could you be staying? This case is only temporary and then you'll be heading back to Cali living that big life out there and she'll still be here. I don't think she thinks it's worth it."

Santana whipped her head to look at him with anger at the last sentence. Puck was pleased to see his friend hadn't lost even an ounce of her hot-headedness or that fiery temper. It had been legendary at McKinley High School.

Puck quickly back peddled. "I mean, I don't think she thinks that it would be worth it to try and talk to you and get attached again. I know it still kills her to think about you and what you guys had. And…I think it still kills you. I saw the way you looked at her when she blew out of Macklin's office."

The woman bristled at the accusation, but she didn't deny Puck's claim. Instead, Santana sent one more glance towards Brittany before she downed the rest of her drink. "I get it. Again, thank you, Puck. You've been the best part of my trip back here, but I can take a hint."

"Tan, it's not like that." Puck said as the brunette stood from her stool.

"No, it is and I get it. I left and you're looking out for her by being over here. I can leave, but…" Santana fought the urge to look towards Brittany again. "We can't avoid each other forever. So many people have died because of this killer, and I want – I need this chance to set things right. As much as it pains us both, we are going to have to work together."

"I know." Puck lifted Santana's jacket and offered to pay her bill. "Let me get it."

"You're cute, you know that, right?" Santana placed a hundred dollar bill on the counter. "I always knew you'd be a real gentleman one day. So let me treat you instead."

Puck straightened himself up with the compliment and threw her a wink. "You didn't have to."

"I know, but I really needed a friend tonight and you were here for me."

"You don't need to buy my friendship."

"But I do need to make sure we are both supplied with enough alcohol."

"True enough."

"I'll see you tomorrow at the station." Santana leaned forward and planted another soft kiss on his check.

"Yeah, I'll see you." Puck said, but felt guilty. "Where are you staying? Do you need somewhere to crash?"

"It's fine. I'm at a hotel; a very nice hotel. So don't worry about me." Santana winked before she turned. "I've always been able to take care of myself."

"No, you've always made everyone think you were okay and taking care of yourself."

"Maybe." Santana shrugged. Perhaps these years had been kinder to Puck than to herself or Brittany. He seemed different – calmer, more experienced. Or perhaps jaded was the word.

The woman made her way out of the Ruffed Grouse; men staring and women glancing at her sideways. Puck couldn't help but cock his own head to the side to watch her leave. Everything would have been fine if a voice hadn't rocked him from his own thoughts.

"Thank God the bitch is gone maybe we can start drinking for real now, Puckerman!" Brittany shouted from the billiards table.

Puck cringed. Shit. Brittany leaned against the rail swaying gently. She could barely keep herself steady. How much had Nelson given her? Just shoot a few rounds with her! That was all he had asked! He leaped up to the raised stage where they were playing and pulled Brittany into him. The blonde instantly collapsed into his chest looking up into his eyes.

"She's really fucking here, Puck. She's really fucking-fucking-fucking-fuck- here." Brittany could barely complete a thought much less a sentence.

"Yeah I know." Puck said as he adjusted the tall blonde she he could hook her arm around his neck. "Come here and let me help you."

"I mean why-why and here in the Grouse!" Brittany paused and slapped him in the arm. "What's a Grouse anyway? I thought they had cleaning stuff that could make all that go away in the bathroom. I mean my tiles definitely need some Grouse killer."

"How much did you give her?" Puck yelled at Nelson. The man shrugged and raised his hands innocently.

"Puck, I had no idea she was still drinking! They must have been giving her more when I wasn't looking! I'm sorry, dude."

"Whatever. It's fine. I got to take her home."

"She fooking walks in here and throws it around like-like she's the queen of Sheba! Queen of She-Lesbia!" Brittany waved her arms around completely relying on Puck to help her walk down and out of the bar. "Tight dress and her ass! Did you see her ass, Puck?"

Brittany turned so violently into Puck that he almost lost her. A cab already sat waiting on the street much to Puck's relief. "I-um-"

Exasperated waiting for Puck's answer, Brittany cut him off. "I know you did! God! Who wasn't checking her out?"

Getting her into the back of the cab was easy. Brittany climbed in and immediately addressed the driver. "You saw her ass, right? I mean what an ass! And she's just swinging it around hoping I look at it when everyone else was looking at it. Did you see it?"

The cabdriver ignored Brittany and made eye contact with Puck in the mirror. "Yeah, yeah sure I saw it. Best piece of ass I ever saw. Now where am I taking you and your lady friend?"

Puck gave him the address trying to speak over Brittany.

"Exactly! See! EVERYONE was looking at it."

* * *

It didn't take a lot to open Brittany's door. In fact, Puck was beginning to believe the P.I. hardly bothered to lock it. Maybe some type of that Freudian Death Wish shit or whatever. Maybe she wanted to be attacked or robbed. Puck didn't have the answers, but he did have an incredibly drunk girl slumped against his shoulders. In the darkness, he maneuvered through bottles, old food containers, and clothes scattered about her apartment. It was a wonder Britt hadn't contracted the Bubonic Plague.

"Come on, B. We're almost there. Just a little bit further and you can sleep all you want."

"Sleeeeeeep." Britt mumbled into his shirt. She grasped at the material for better purchase. Unfortunately the girl could barely stay awake, much less keep herself walking in a straight line.

"Yes, lots of sleep, but only after we get you in bed."

Brittany just nodded into his chest. Puck practically carried her into her bedroom and sat her up with some difficulty onto the bed. Instantly she tried to sink back into the mattress, but Puck grabbed her and held her still. "You need to sit up for a few minutes. Okay, Britt?"

Again she nodded. Puck worked quickly. He whipped her shirt off and put her into a baggy old t-shirt then he slipped her into some sweatpants he found on the floor. The blonde cooperated for the most part, but barely moved so Puck had to work extra hard. Finally when Puck felt satisfied that he had done enough for Brittany, he gently leaned her back into the pillow. It didn't take a lot of coaxing; the inebriated blonde fell into the cushions comfortably. Her eyes were already lidded with sleep not far away. Puck finally allowed himself a moment to sigh.

Fuck. Being Britt's friend was hard enough, but being her keeper for Macklin and the case? It would probably be the death of him. And to top it off, it was only the first day.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He turned to leave, but felt a hand grab hold of his. Looking down, the man realized Brittany hadn't yet fallen asleep. At least she could still move enough to keep him rooted next to her bed.

"Puck…" She muttered softly. Her words were barely loud enough for a whisper.

"Yeah, Britt?"

"It's going to be okay, right?"

Puck felt a hard lump form in his throat. It sounded like she was almost pleading. "Sure, Britt, it's all going to be okay."

At the reassurance Brittany burrowed her face a little further into the pillows and Puck would have left, but she squeezed his hand again.

"Do you think she'll ever forgive me?" She murmured.

Now he frowned. It pained him to even revisit the way Santana had left. But even worse, the way Brittany had fallen apart. She had shattered right in front of him. Sure he missed Santana, but he couldn't bring himself to talk about the girls' relationship. "I don't know, B. I don't know what she was thinking. I mean, Santana was the one who walked away from us – from you. I think that's something you've got to talk to her about."

The girl didn't respond at first and Puck once thought Brittany had fallen asleep, but again she tightened her grip. This time it felt different. Puck snapped his eyes through the darkness to try to find her eyes, but the shadows and the lack of light obscured those blue orbs.

"I just want her to forgive me, Puck. Maybe finding her killer will help her finally rest in peace. I never meant for her to die." Brittany choked into the pillow and Puck knew the blonde was crying. He reached forward, feeling emotions well up in his own chest. Shit. Why'd she have to be drunk enough to bring this up? Brittany hadn't been talking about Santana. She wanted forgiveness from the same person he wanted forgiveness from. Sometimes it was better when Brittany chose to pretend that tragedy had never happened.

But he had to be strong. Strong for Brittany, at least until he could go home and drown his own memories in some alcohol of his own.

"Rachel could hold grudges or be temperamental sometimes, Britt, but I don't think she would ever blame you for what happened. You didn't know what would happen. None of us did. It was her killer, not you who did it."

He touched her back softly rubbing small circles against the material of her shirt. Only God could save him now from the pain of these memories. He could see Rachel displayed – body on the ground, the bruises around her throat. No, her vocal chords had been removed. It was the blood he remembered. They hadn't been able to save her. He hadn't been able to save her. Moisture built behind his eyes. Fuck Brittany for doing this to him tonight. It was better to forget.

"But I blame myself." Brittany finished finally voicing the self-guilt and loathing she harbored beneath her drunken exterior. Puck knew the admission would have destroyed the fragile grip the woman had on her reality if she would have admitted her guilt sober. Behind the words of intoxication, the fog and haziness could block out the anguish she felt.

Puck had no response. Really there was nothing to say. He continued to rub Brittany's back until the blonde fell asleep. After a long time with only his thoughts and memories, Puck eventually stood and left the apartment. He would give her a wakeup call tomorrow. It would be better to expel his own demons alone. They each had their own way of coping.

* * *

**So second chapter! We got to learn a little bit more about relationships and the nature of the last time the killer came around. More to be revealed! Did I say how excited I am that you guys are reading this and just as stoked as I am? Loved all the comments and alerts from last chapter! Stick with it because I promise it's gonna be an adventure! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you guys for the feedback! Loving it! Don't worry there will be more Santana and what she's been doing coming. As for the Brittana tension, I love it too! So there will be more! We are setting the scene! :) **

**I know that a lot of people on FF have beta readers to check their work. I would just like to take this moment to thank my girlfriend! She may not be my official beta reader on the site, but she takes the time to edit my chapters multiple times before I post them. Sometimes she'll even check out the site and the comments, so I wanted to thank her for being amazing! Without her, you'd be reading some crazy shit. Hahaha**

**So apparently FF isn't sending notifications or updating, sorry if you receive multiple ones for the chapter! :(  
**

**Now onto the next thrilling segment of…**

* * *

**Sirens**

**Chapter 3**

The next morning, Puck found himself once again staring at Brittany's door. At 9:00 am, Puck figured that would have been more than enough time for the P.I. to have slept off most of the previous night. Not surprisingly, he found the door once again unlocked, so he welcomed himself in. But lights were already flicked on and he could hear music playing from the kitchen. Not what he expected.

"Britt?"

"Yeah, in here." A voice croaked from the kitchen over the sound of dry cereal pouring into a bowl. Puck walked into the kitchen expecting Brittany to have been kidnapped and someone forcing her to eat a breakfast. He couldn't remember the last time he had walked into Britt's apartment and seen her fixing herself something solid to eat. Perhaps the end of the world would be happening any moment now.

Brittany had looked haggard last night. Puck figured they would have another rousing session of drag Britt's ass out of bed. Secretly Puck had been expecting Brittany to have squirreled away another one night stand. The other day, that naked girl getting out of B's bed had been the single best thing that had happened to him. That was a sight he could get used to in the morning. But instead, Puck saw her sitting at the table attempting to pour some old nasty cereal into a bowl that probably hadn't been washed in two years.

Puck rushed forward and stopped her half way through filling the bowl. She glared at him. Bags, glossy eyes, and deep circles reminded Puck that no matter how clean and showered Brittany smelled, the woman was still very unstable.

"What are you doing? I'm hungry and we have work to do. It feels like my stomach is about to commit mutiny on my body if I don't eat anything."

"Yeah but that shit looks like it was bought back in 1839 when it was taken off the production line during General Mills' opening." Puck shook his head and threw the whole box of Cheerios and the old dirty bowl into the trash in one decisive move. "Come on, I'll get you breakfast."

"Hey! That bowl was still good!" Brittany frowned glaring.

"Yeah, maybe if you wanted to contract some strange obscure disease. We're leaving now. Come on."

Brittany begrudgingly followed Puck. They ended up eating together at the locals' favorite diner where cops were always welcomed. They ate in silence. Brittany didn't want to forgive him for taking her bottle away before they left the apartment. She had reluctantly handed back the bottle to Puck. But the detective hadn't stopped there. Oh no, he took it one step further and literally frisked her down before allowing her to leave the apartment. Apparently she would have to start shoving flasks up her ass since Puck had shown no hesitancy in sticking his hands right down her shirt. Granted, he did find her secret stash tucked between her tits. Finally to make matters worse, Puck forced the girl to lock her apartment. Brittany spent a good twenty minutes locating her key until Puck got annoyed. Sometime ago, Brittany didn't remember when, she had given Puck a spare key. So he locked it up tight just to be safe. Lucky her.

"Thanks for breakfast."

"So when's the last time you had a good meal, Britt?"

"We're not talking about this right now, Puck."

"I mean it. I don't want you collapsing or getting hurt cause you can't take care of yourself."

"I'm fine."

"Wanna talk about last night?" Puck asked, but he didn't want to go there with Brittany. He ran a hand over his shaved head as he looked across the street as they approached the precinct. She wasn't ready and he sure as fuck didn't want to open that old scar. It had been a bloody terrible healing process that never fully closed for any of them.

"And say what? I know that I have to work with her. I'll do it, but only for…"

"Rachel?" Puck filled in when Brittany trailed off. The blonde tensed, but refused to acknowledge that Puck had finished her thoughts. "You mentioned her last night, Pierce."

When Brittany's blue eyes rounded on him at the suggestion that she had been the one to bring up those memories, Puck raised his hands defensively. But he continued. "When you were plastered. You said you wanted her forgiveness."

Brittany felt her stomach turning at the thought. She was way too sober for this conversation. Not now. Not ever. "Let it go, Puck."

"You're the one who can't seem to let it go, Britt. I'm not the one getting shitfaced every night and avoiding everything in my life."

"But you are the one shoving your fucking nose where it doesn't belong. I said let it go, Puck." The blonde brushed past her old friend and flung open the doors of the station. Puck sighed and followed after. Maybe he shouldn't push it too far.

* * *

The precinct hustled. There were patrol cops coming in and out, booking people in handcuffs while paper runners pushed through people in order to get the proper documentation for other departments. A few people saw Puck and nodded amicably in his direction. Puck, of course, returned the gesture, but his focus was solely on keeping Brittany cool.

"Don't hold my arm like that. Everyone's already waiting for me to fuck up. I don't need them thinking I did it prematurely."

"You're not going to fuck up." Puck responded as he dropped his hand. They made their way to Puck's desk, but it was already occupied by Legs and Macklin.

He could tell nothing was going to go right today. Glancing sideways at Brittany, Puck exhaled a sigh of relief that his companion didn't look ready to jump Santana. The blonde seemed to be concentrating extremely hard on the stapler on his desk. Good enough. Hopefully she would attack the stapler and not anyone else.

"Good, you two idiots are here. Maybe you can clear up this mess." He pointed to the smirking Santana who swung comfortably in Puck's chair. Again, the brunette was dressed impeccably. Another tight fitting skirt that accentuated all her curves and a red fitted shirt with a v-neck that allowed the imagination to run freely. "I thought I would only have to deal with two problems." Now he looked back at Puck and Brittany to indicate where he thought his headaches would have originated from.

"What's the problem, chief?" Puck asked staring at Santana. Well, he was staring at parts of Santana. Sure he knew she was gay, but damn it was nice to refresh his memory after so long.

"The problem –" Santana swiveled hard into an aggressive position at the desk leaning forward to make direct eye contact with Puck. Her elbows hit the surface of the table and her fingers crossed. It almost reminded Puck of the way Sue Sylvester used to sit at her desk during an interrogation in her office. He would never make the mistake of telling Santana who she looked like. That would be suicide. "—is that I flew all the way back to New York on a red eye flight. I had to take time off of my own cases and clients in my firm in Los Angeles in order to come and work this case. I want to make it clear to all three of you, yes you included Chief Macklin, that I do _not_ want to be here. In fact, I had my personal assistant ignore all of your calls. Unfortunately, my boss realized there was a disturbance in the office. We work together most nights very late. So she forced me to get on the plane and be here as a favor to some D.A. that works for the department. This was not by choice. "

Brittany didn't want to hear Santana talk like this. She still could barely process that the Latina had just walked off an airplane and strolled back into Brittany's life. Every word felt like a personal attack – Santana couldn't make it any clearer. She did _not _want to be back in Brittany's life. This wasn't her choice. Her insides felt like they were burning up. Brittany had known Santana for so long; she should have anticipated the Latina to not mince words or feelings.

Fuck it. If Santana didn't want to be back; Brittany didn't want her back.

That's what she told herself, but nothing could mend the tears in her chest – over her heart – that stretched to their limits.

She had to lash out just to make Santana stop. Her voice was curt and cruel trying to disengage from both the words and the speaker. "So what? We get it. You don't want to be here. What's your point?"

Both Macklin and Puck sharply turned to Brittany surprised at her tone of voice. They had been expecting hostility, but both had been hoping it wouldn't get messy. Santana, though, remained outwardly emotionless. Her dark eyes met Brittany's bright blue eyes for the first time that morning. Both girls took a sharp breath. They hadn't been this close since Macklin's office the day before. Neither was ready for a confrontation.

They looked away at the same time. Brittany went back to the stapler. Santana's eyes dropped to her shirt. Her fingers fumbled over the lining of her top to ground her just enough to forget the way looking into those baby blues could send shivers down her body . It gave her something to do. Quickly she realized that she was just distracting herself from Brittany. Santana looked back up to Macklin. Her eyes addressed him, but her words were directed towards Brittany. "The reason I am saying all of this is because I expect our time not to be wasted. TheMidnight Strangler is still out there and already targeting another girl. We can't be wasting precious hours searching for documentation that should be filed and stored in the open cases."

"Now hold on there, Miss Lopez. I don't know what you are implying about my department-" Macklin started. His bald head already started turning shades of purple from anger at the implication that he ran a sloppy ship.

"Implying? Oh no, captain, I am directly stating that your department can't find any of my work, papers, notes, or anything that Bri- I had to hand over after the case got cold. In fact, I was told that I had to hand over all my notes in order to leave New York without a warrant going out for my arrest. Since you and your lawyers decided everything we had collected on the Strangler was now considered evidence."

Puck fidgeted next to Macklin and almost kicked Brittany, but he resisted. Santana had to know that Brittany would have been the only one to take back the box from their P.I. files. He should have just asked Britt yesterday why she had been so nonchalant about their missing paperwork in the cages. He should have known this shit would come back to bite his ass. And Santana…did she just want to start shit?

"You're saying that no one has located your old files? You sent someone into the cages to look?" Macklin's face was turning various shades of purple.

"Someone? I might be a bitch. I might not want to be here. I might _loathe_ this city. But the one thing I am is thorough. I sent multiple people to look. Then I even sent a few of your boys to look through all the boxes that were brought up in regards to the case. Not one single shred of my paperwork was found. Do you understand what I am saying?"

Macklin's frown grew deeper. Puck dropped his eyes to the floor. Now would not be a good time to draw attention to himself. Brittany cocked her hip to one side to be defiant. Her eyes left the stapler and looked up towards Santana's face. The blonde couldn't tell if Santana was playing a game with her, or if her ex-lover really didn't know Brittany had long since lifted them from the station.

"No response? Why am I not surprised? This is going to be a repeat of the last fucking time. I don't even know why I am here. All that happens in New York is pain. I am booking my flight. I knew I shouldn't have come. I should have told everyone to fuck off. I don't want to see this shit all over again. It was bad enough the first time and I doubt it will get resolved this time. It was nice to see you again, Puck." Santana rose from the chair all huff and anger. She gathered her jacket from the back of his chair putting it on. "You too, Macklin. And-"

Brittany glanced from Santana to the stapler about a thousand times once the other woman had announced that she would be leaving. Her heart tossed and turned. It felt like it would twist until it tore. Why? Fuck. Why did Santana make everything so hard? Obviously the Latina figured Brittany had the files. This was her way of getting them and at the same time assessing the situation between them. Brittany would prefer that they had minimal contact.

Why did Santana always have to force it?

She didn't need her. Britt kept saying it over and over again. She didn't want Santana back in her life. But to watch her walk out again after all those years? Her body had already started to ache. She knew she wouldn't survive it.

"I have them." Brittany muttered darkly. Her bright, blue eyes remained firmly planted on the stapler as she made the announcement.

Macklin practically blew up. "Do you know how many fucking laws and codes you broke doing that! What the fuck were you thinking! I need some fucking handcuffs! I should send you into holding for days before I let you out! Or even better – I should charge you till you're spending the rest of your fucking life in jail!"

Brittany didn't flinch. Her gaze lifted from Puck's desk. She was only looking into dark brown eyes trying to gauge what game Santana was playing. No surprise, Santana held her gaze. Their eyes locked. Tingles and electricity shot between them both aggressive and challenging. They did share a lot of a history. Their eyes could feel the strain of years in the past together and years in the past separated. It felt like a thousand sparks were lighting all around them. Yet no one else reacted to the light show taking place. Both girls stood their ground waiting for the other one to make the first move.

"Did you fucking know about this, Puckerman? I should send you into the same fucking cell! You are supposed to be the one watching this fucking idiot! I am taking you both down!"

"Chief! Hey whoa! I had no idea she did that or that she even would. Besides you only assigned her to me yesterday! We haven't had enough time to fuck up together to be punished." Puck shot back defensively trying to calm Macklin down. "How bout we talk about this in your office where the rest of the department can't hear. I completely agree that we should do something about her behavior. But that type of action requires thoughtful planning."

Macklin allowed himself to be led away from Puck's desk to his office. Puck resisted the urge to turn back to witness the fireworks and explosions happening between the two women. He could practically feel the heat on his back.

Shit.

It left the two women alone for the first time since Santana's arrival. They continued to stare. Neither had broken or dared to break their eye contact.

Brittany didn't want to break the silence or the staring contest between them. Santana had already won the first round by making her admit that she had the files. It wasn't the admission that irked at Brittany so much as the way Santana had forced her hand. Brittany could have let her ex-lover walk out of the station and board that plane for California. She should have kept her mouth shut.

"Why did you take them?" Santana finally spoke. Her dark eyes never shifted away from Brittany's.

Britt's body felt enflamed at the extended attention from a woman she never thought she would see again. "Why do you think?"

"You couldn't have left them in the station?"

"They had closed the case and called it cold. They took all my work after you left and had handed all your work to them."

Santana nodded. She had already known the answer, but she needed something to talk about. This close to Brittany, it wasn't hard to remember the way her smile could be infectious or the way her hair framed her face, and a million other things. "You could go to jail for pulling stupid stunts like that."

"It wasn't stupid. Someone had to keep working the case." Brittany shot back. Anger rising easily at Santana's suggestion. Brittany had been the only one who hadn't given up. She knew she could catch the killer, but everything and everyone, including Santana and Puck, had gotten in the way.

Santana shook her head slowly – disappointment in her frown. For the first time in what seemed like centuries, Santana looked away. She grabbed her purse from the back of Puck's chair and draped her jacket over her arm. Brittany tried not to look distressed at her motions. Was she really going back to California? Britt didn't understand. Santana knew where the boxes were so why would she be leaving.

Finally, Santana's eyes once again met Britt's.

"We were all still working the case. Just not the way you were." The brunette didn't head towards the main doors. Her heels clicked towards the meeting room where the department was already funneling towards.

Brittany's face flushed red with emotions at Santana's words.

What right did she have?

Yet, Brittany felt chagrined and resentment, not at Santana per say, but because her words had struck a chord – a real chord.

"Shit." Brittany muttered under her breath as she walked towards the conference room. Maybe she should have let Santana walk back out of her life.

* * *

"As we wait for the feds to review the case and to see if they deem the Midnight Strangler a case they would take, our analysts have been very hard at work. I know that some of you were here when the original killings took place – myself included as I was a detective at the time." Macklin trailed off for a moment before continuing. "What we need to remember is that the first time these killings started happened more than four years ago. I want fresh eyes working the back paperwork and new interviews with suspects and the victim's family and friends."

As packets started to be passed around to certain people in the room, Brittany was relieved to know they wouldn't be looking at any more slides this morning. With the food she had at breakfast, she felt pretty good. One look at the bloody photos on the big screen would change all that.

Puck sat in the middle of the room next to a few of his buddies and she could see Santana in the back corner of the room.

Macklin continued. "The first order of business has already been completed by our team of analysts. They have compiled a list of names by crossing references dates of incarceration against when the killings stopped and two weeks prior to the death of Anna Robinson. I have already dispatched a few teams to bring in the suspects. Most have priors associated with abuse, asphyxiation, and violent records. I want to have them in for questioning. Start with their parole officers and their check-ins. I want to know what they have been doing since their release. I want to know where they've been living; who they've been hanging out with; where they've been drinking; if they are back together with their girl; where they play hoops; their church; how often they've taken a shit. I want it all. If you can't be thorough, I want you off this case. I won't allow mistakes or sloppy police work. This isn't just about fixing the mistakes of our department four years ago. There is a girl out there right now who is being targeted by this fucker. We need to stop him."

Santana clicked her pen in and out in the corner of the meeting room. Her thoughts occupied by both Macklin's words and the blonde sitting at the opposite end of the room. She didn't know what she had been thinking when she had finally agreed to come back to New York. So many thoughts had surfaced, but worse than her thoughts were the feelings and deep emotional traumas that she associated with the city.

No, not the city…

Her dark eyes lingered on the back of the head of blonde hair. Her nails tapped on the notepad in front of her, but she hadn't written anything yet. Most of Macklin's words were directed towards his patrolmen and detectives. What could she possibly do that would break the case? She didn't belong here. Not anymore.

* * *

"_Miss Lopez, I know you're busy. But he called again, and he says he won't take no for an answer."_

"_Tell him to go fuck himself. I am not going to talk to him." Santana practically yelled at her receptionist. She sat behind an impressive desk filled with paperwork, books, and case files for her firm. She had a habit of working late and seeing clients at all hours of the night. Her boss found that Santana actually could accomplish more by having such a flexible and extended work day. She had hired Santana a receptionist to work the front desk and phone calls from the hours of 8pm-2am. _

"_Miss Lopez, I don't think I can tell the chief of police to do that."_

"_Sure you can. You open your mouth and you repeat these words into the phone receiver – Go. Fuck. Yourself. See? It's easy. I don't want to hear anything else about this. Please." Santana realized she sounded like the biggest bitch, but fuck Macklin for daring to call her. What could he possibly want from her? She didn't want to give it. New York had taken too much. _

"_He said that he could throw me in jail if I didn't get you on the phone and be charged with obstruction."_

"_For Christ's sake, Sophia, you work in a fucking law firm! Do you think he can really do any of that without us suing his fucking ass? He is the police chief thousands and thousands of miles from here in New York. He could be the king of New York and that would be jack shit here in California! Tell him no!"_

_Her receptionist turned to leave for the desk. Santana sat at her desk once again by herself surrounded by stacks and stacks of papers. Her hands were shaking as she tried to remain calm. It could be something about Brittany. Maybe she hadn't changed her emergency contact from four years ago and something bad happened. A million scenarios raced through her mind. Puck could take care of it or Brittany's sister. She had people to worry about her. The only comfort she took was the receding sound of heels walking away from her office. _

_But even that comfort was cut short by voices exchanging words not that far away from her office. Santana groaned. She didn't need to get up to know it was her boss talking to the receptionist about the reason why she continued to disturb one of her lawyers. _

_Shit. _

_A moment later, the girl returned holding a piece of paper in her hand. _

"_Miss Lopez…" She started once again but with more caution. Santana looked as if she were about to blow. _

"_Yes." Her voice dripped with venom. The only reason the girl would have returned would be because she was ordered to by someone with a much higher pay grade than both of them. _

"_I was told that I had to transfer you the call."_

"_You were told?"_

"_Yes by Terrence."_

"_And Terry said I had to take the call?"_

"_Yes, Miss Lopez, also that there would be no negotiations. That a plane ticket will be bought right now and you should be in New York sometime tomorrow."_

_The pencil in Santana's hand snapped. Terry had an uncanny ability to always sense disturbances in the firm. Not only that, but whenever Santana needed to escape something. Terry always poked a nose into the brunette's business. _

"_Wonderful." Santana's words curled in the air. The other girl seemed to shiver at the syllables spoken in her direction. "Put Macklin through on my line. Tell Terry that I want to speak right after I am done on the phone with New York. We need to discuss a few things before I make this fucking trip."_

"_I will do that right away." The girl started to make her way out of the office. _

_Santana called her one more time. "Get Tim on the phone as well. I have to tell him where I'll be for the next few days."_

"_Of course."_

* * *

"Finally, we need to re-interview the previous victims' families. I know this is not what most of us want to do, but every shred of information that could have been overlooked last time could be our way of stopping the killer this time. Your leads have their assignments. I expect to see a stream of assholes lining up to get interviewed early in the morning tomorrow. I want us grilling these fuckers to see if they've gotten sloppy and if one of them could be our guy."

Santana didn't move as the rest of the meeting started to break apart. She hadn't realized that her thoughts had been in California or that her eyes had been trained on only one person in the room. Her body jerked as the blonde stood. She had to stop looking at Brittany like that.

"Pierce, Lopez, Puckerman, my office now."

Macklin's authoritative boom cut through the meeting. Puck sprung up from his seat eager to please the police chief as he started to make his way towards the office.

For a moment, Santana wondered if the blonde could feel the intensity of her gaze, the way her eyes had betrayed her by remaining upon her for so long. Finally Santana made the first move. She pushed herself from the wall she had been leaning on and followed Macklin and Puck to the chief's office.

Macklin and Puck were already in conversation when Santana and Brittany joined. Instantly the Latina felt their proximity. Brittany didn't even bother to push through the doorframe to enter the room. Instead she stayed only a foot behind Santana. They were so close the shorter woman could feel hot breath tickle the back of her neck. Goosebumps rippled up and down her skin.

"I don't understand how I can watch her if I am not working with her. You're making the assignment more difficult than it has to be."

"Puckerman, if I wanted back talk I would wait to get it from your friend standing over there." Macklin pointed over to Brittany in the doorframe. The blonde, feeling cheeky, shrugged her shoulders and tipped her black hat towards Macklin. If Macklin wanted to try and get a rise out of her this morning, he would have to try harder. "You're still going to check up on her, but what I need is for you to try to track down some of these families. The department has received good feedback regarding your skills with victims and families. I need this to be handled delicately so that's why I need to reassign you for the day."

Puck looked less that pleased. He ran his hand over the top of his shaven head. Only two days here in New York and Santana found herself remembering the little things. She knew that whenever Puck ran his hands over his head, it meant he wasn't happy, but that he would do whatever he was asked. Some things never changed.

"Fine. Can I leave then?"

"No, stay and listen to the rest of my instructions so you know what your little charge is up to."

Brittany might not have bristled at Macklin's first comment, but now she fidgeted annoyed at the doorway.

"What? I don't have good people skills?"

"Hardly. In fact, I have a special task for the two of you. You used to be private investigators."

"No."

"I am."

Both women said at the same time. Santana resisted the urge to look at Brittany. A small smirk curled on her lips for a moment. They used to do that all the time. But she quickly stifled the reaction and walked forward into the room. She couldn't be that close to her.

"I was not an investigator, I helped."

"And I haven't had my license revoked yet, so I'm still a fucking investigator. What are you implying, Macklin?" Brittany went for the more direct approach.

"Well one of our main suspects from the last time the killer was around has skipped out on his parole." Macklin's voice changed. He moved around behind his desk and picked up a file and slapped it on the surface in front of him. "You should remember good old Chester. In fact, it was your persistent investigation last time that got him locked away. Of course, we could never determine if he was our guy, but you did nail him for domestic abuse and he was charged with a few counts of drugs, drug possession, and intent to sell. But we could never get anything past that. The DA got him locked away and shortly after the killings stopped."

Brittany shook her head at the door in anger. "It wasn't Chester. I ruled him out last time."

"We all know your feelings on the matter, but at the time we were pleased that the killings stopped."

"So what?"

"Well he was released about a month ago so his name was flagged during our cross search for suspects recently released. I called up his officer and found out Chester had gone missing about two weeks ago. Apparently, his officer has already gone to try and locate him with no luck. I don't like it. But I figure that with such amazing private investigators or whatever you call yourselves now, that you should be able to locate Chester in no time and bring him in for questioning."

Brittany scowled from the doorframe. Santana could feel the blonde's anger and her own building. "This is really what you need us to do right now? Chester was a piece of shit, but I don't think he's our guy."

"Either way, I said this was going to be thorough and I'll feel a hell of a lot better with this fucker in cuffs, in interrogation, and on our radar. I have too many of my people spread out. I can't afford to spend too much time on one guy. That's where you two can cut down time, cost, and man hours by finding him."

"Fine. Whatever helps. Once again, I'm not even sure what I'm doing here." Santana said under her breath, but loud enough to make sure Brittany heard. Even as the words came out of her mouth, the brunette regretted them. Puck turned to look at her with a shake of his head. She was here for Rachel.

"I don't give a fuck what you think you are doing here, Lopez. I wanted you because we need a complete team. If you want to run back to L.A. after this, go for it. I want to see if you two still have whatever fucking magic juju you had from the last fucking time when you guys worked as a team. If you don't got the magic still, then I say… get the fuck out of New York and fast." Macklin pushed the file towards them. "I suggest you go check out his old haunts and maybe a few of his friends. You guys worked the guy last time so you'd probably know where to start. Good luck. I want to see the piece of shit in an interrogation room by tomorrow afternoon. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir!" Puck answered immediately. Both the girls groaned at Puck's eagerness to please. Slowly, Brittany nodded her head followed by a shrug from Santana.

"Not you, Puckerman. You've got families to track down. Now all of you, get out of my office. I've got shit to do." The large older man shooed them out of the office with a final wave of his hand.

The three of them stood outside the office. Brittany held the file of Chester Dietz in her hand.

"You two will be okay, right?"

"We're fine, Puck." Britt cut him off before Santana could say something.

But Santana ignored the obvious attempt to stop her from talking. "Thanks anyway, Noah, but I'm sure we'll be able to track down one convicted criminal."

"Alright, fine. But I don't want you guys doing anything stupid." Puck spoke with hesitation unsure if he should direct his concern towards Brittany or Santana. Obviously he had seen Britt be reckless in the field and very recently, but he never remembered Santana as cautious, tactful, or even couth in most cases. "If you guys run into any trouble, call me for backup and that way we won't have to make it messy. I can bring in a couple patrolmen and we can carry guns, so there shouldn't be a problem."

"Thanks, Puck." Brittany said over emphasizing the Puck since Santana had called him Noah. "But there is one thing you could do for us; I need to use your department car. It will help us look official. Besides you know I don't own a car in the city."

If Puck had looked distressed before, but he practically turned another shade of green now.

"Britt, I don't know about that. I mean what if something happens or you crash or anything could happen."

"You're going to be with your partner anyway. Use his car and this way if we do have trouble, I can easily reach you or the station for help. It's a win-win."

Puck anxiously turned towards Macklin's door. "I'm going to get in so much fucking trouble for this."

He handed over the keys.

* * *

"Get in the car." Brittany aggressively opened the back seat of Puck's cruiser. The cab of the car was separated by a cage and couldn't be opened except from the outside.

Santana's heels clicked furiously through the parking lot almost unable to keep up with Brittany's pace. The blonde had flown out of the station at such speed; Santana thought that the blonde wanted to leave her behind. "Are you kidding? I'm not sitting in the back like a criminal."

"As you pointed out in Mack's office, you're not a cop, you're not a detective, and you're certainly not a P.I. So there's no way you could be in the front. It breaks all the rules."

"And I'm supposed to believe that you of all people want to follow the rules. Don't give me this shit, Brittany. I'm not thrilled about this situation either."

"Yes!" Britt snapped, glaring towards her ex. "We all have fucking heard about a hundred times since yesterday how you don't want to be here. Fine. But get in the fucking car so we can prove to Macklin there's nothing between us anymore. That the fucking 'magic' or whatever he wants to call it, is gone! Then we can all go our separate ways!"

Santana tried to not look visibly shaken by Brittany's words. She looked away from those blazing blue eyes towards the back seat. "Fine. We haven't even discussed where we are going to start looking for Chester."

The door slammed shut behind her as she settled into the back. It only took a moment longer before Brittany had thrown the key into the ignition and turned the car on.

"The only place he would be, his girlfriend's house. You know, the same girlfriend whose testimony got him sent away four years ago."

* * *

**Thanks again for reading! Sorry about the delay in the chapter posting. I was on vacation this week! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi everyone! Hope you are all having a great day! Thanks again for all the feedback and the alerts! **

**Onto the next chapter…**

* * *

**Sirens**

**Chapter 4**

"Why would he be back there? She was the reason we were able to throw his ass in jail."

"Yeah, but she was pissed at the time. Remember? Chester was sticking it in some other woman and his girl, Brenda, wanted to get back at him. She was more devastated about the conviction after the trial than he was. She was hysterical."

"Yeah, but why would _he _go back there?"

Brittany looked into the rearview mirror for the first time since she had pulled Puck's patrol car out of the garage. For a moment, those blue eyes sparkled with some hidden amusement. It didn't remain hidden for long. Brittany shared. "You don't remember Brenda's ass? That girl was definitely way out of his league. I know if I just came out of the big house and I was looking for a piece of ass that didn't belong to some big hairy man, I would definitely hit her up. I might even forgive her for what she did if it meant a few times in the sack."

Santana didn't know how to react. A flash of jealousy lit her dark eyes. Brittany had been checking the woman out four years ago? They had been together then and Britt had not been left sexually wanting. That had never been a problem in their relationship. The spark of jealousy only lasted for that second. Brittany wasn't hers anymore. In fact, she knew almost nothing about Brittany's life for the past few years. She hadn't asked and hadn't wanted to know. To cut Brittany out of life, Santana had cut everyone out of her life. It had been the only way. Occasionally she responded to calls from Quinn, but the short haired blonde hadn't called her in over a year.

Whatever. Not her concern.

The car hit the road hard. The brunette in the back flew up a few inches from the seat. Her hands grasped onto the handles on the top of the door. "Watch it! Fuck, B!"

The name came out without Santana's knowledge. She had been very cautious to avoid calling Brittany anything except her full name. They had about a million nicknames for each other when they had lived together. Bringing up anything from the past felt like it would trigger an explosion. She couldn't tell if Brittany had heard her as the blonde was too busy flicking off another driver. It didn't matter if Brittany had heard her or not because Santana felt the most affected. Shit.

"Pass me the case file." Santana said once she was sure they weren't going to die. Brittany had just flown through two red lights. Brittany didn't even turn around as she passed the stack of papers from Macklin through the small door in the cage that separated them. She took them and quickly flipped through a few random papers. It didn't take much to refresh her memory on Chester and Brenda. They had been quite a pair. Chester had popped up on their radar last time because of his abusive relationship with women. He liked to beat on them, but more importantly he left marks around the neck. During the case, he was found loitering in the park and picked up by a patrolman on suspicious activity. He wouldn't have been flagged, but three days later a body of a young woman, Lynette Stevenson, showed up strangled with her vocal chords cut out – the Midnight Strangler's work. A quick scan of police reports from the park for that week turned up Chester Dietz's name and placed him on the top of the suspects list. Not a good place to be for a anyone in a high profile serial killer case whether one was a piece of shit, like Chester, or not.

She flipped to a page with a picture of Brenda after one of his infamous rages. They had been investigating and interrogating him for a few weeks without much luck. He had given them several alibis and all of them had been broken. He couldn't account for his whereabouts the night of the girl's murder, but besides that, the department wasn't able to pin anything else on the guy. They had gone to Brenda, his girlfriend at the time, for some help and to see if she would flip on him. She didn't. A few days later, she returned looking like shit. Santana remembered seeing her in person that day at the precinct. This picture didn't do the damage justice.

Her face had turned various shades of purple. Brenda had beautiful green eyes, but the swelling in her face had been so bad that she could not see; they had been so swollen. Around her throat, the outlines of big hands were easily visible. Those marks had only been the facial ones; her body had been through a beating. The doctors had been fearful of internal bleeding. It had been bad. Really bad. That had been the day Brenda had turned him in for his drugs and wanted to press charges – assault, abuse, battery, etc. She had said how she didn't want to see his ass for the next forty years. The courts had given him ten, but according to the file he had gained parole on good behavior after four. He had to have the worst timing as his release coincided with the murder of Anne Robinson perfectly.

"You think Brenda's going to talk to us?" Santana asked after a few minutes.

No response. The patrol car radio had been turned all the way up so noise filled the small space they were sharing. Santana knew this was one of Brittany's many avoidance tactics. Fine. If Brittany was done talking, then she could reacquaint herself with Chester. The car took a few more sharp turns before Brittany swung into a space on the street. Papers once again scattered in the backseat. Santana scowled as she looked up barely able to keep her ass on the seat.

* * *

"I guess this means we're here." Santana muttered as she scooped the papers back into some order and slid them back through the cage. Unable to help herself, she mumbled under her breath. "No wonder I never let you drive us anywhere."

"What?" Brittany asked as she opened the backseat to let Santana out.

"Nothing. You suck at driving." Santana tugged on the hem of her skirt to pull it straight again. And readjusted her red blouse with that deep cut that seemed to tantalize and tease the eyes by suggesting that something more intimate could be revealed at any moment. Yet it never did. Santana finished fixing herself and looked up in time to catch cerulean eyes lingering on her before Brittany's glance darted off towards the street.

"I'll cuff you to the door next time if you need more support." Brittany responded.

"This isn't the house I remember Brenda living at."

"That's because it's not."

"Where are we?"

"I pulled her name on the way out of the station and it looks like she's living with her mother now. Apparently-" Brittany lit up one of her cigarettes with one smooth motion and took a long drag. She'd quit later. "-she's been on watch with child services and moved in with her mother to take some of the heat off. Wanna guess who the father is?"

Santana waved away some of the smoke coming in her direction. "I betcha she says it's Chester's kid, but if I were Chester, I would get that shit checked on Jerry Springer."

"Nice to see you haven't lost all your intuitive investigator instincts." Brittany shrugged and walked up the steps towards the house. The cigarette dangled lazily from the side of her mouth. Santana almost forgot that Brittany was only a P.I. The way she rapped at the door with authority and at the same time exuding such indifferent nonchalance as if she couldn't be bothered if no one answered the door. Her right arm hung above her head leaning against the doorframe. And if Santana hadn't been watching Brittany the whole time, she would have guessed the woman had cocked her black hat to the side in order to achieve her desired appearance. Her black tie hung loosely around her neck and seemed to have been put on askew and stayed like that swinging haphazardly from side to side. Even though Santana stood behind the P.I. she knew the most arresting quality about Brittany Susan Pierce wasn't her outfit, but those eyes. Those bright blue eyes that seemed to contrast everything and at the same time complimenteverything about her.

No answer at the door, but Brittany wasn't deterred. She shifted her position for a moment to glance through the sheer curtain on the window. Clearly, whatever Brittany had seen meant they wouldn't give up at Brenda's place just yet.

This time she pounded harder on the door followed by a few words. "Open up, Brenda. This is the police; don't make me bust this door in. I don't think you can afford to pay for another one with your current job. What is that now? Working the pole yet or have you resorted to pushing drugs? Which is it? I mean, I don't need you to open the door up. I can just break it in and trust me, I have enough fucking rage right now that I could put a hole through the door and the screen."

"Maybe she isn't here…" Santana said disappointed to see that Brittany seemed to still be out of control. The last time they had worked a case together after Rachel had been killed had been the last time they had been on a case together.

"Oh she's here." Brittany said loud enough to be considered shouting. "Aren't you, Brenda? And we aren't fucking leaving till she comes out! Isn't that exciting, Brenda? I know that you can't wait to open the door so I'm sure we could be polite enough to wait for you to get to it!"

A few of the neighbors started to push aside curtains to see what the commotion was, but they quickly returned to be nosy bodies once they saw the cop car on the street. Santana saw a couple on the street give them dirty looks probably because of Brittany's language, but she wasn't going to correct her ex-lover. If Brittany wanted to be cussing all sorts of profanities in the middle of the street that was her business.

"Come on, let's go. I'm sure we can talk to his parole officer to find out a bit more about what Chester was doing before he skipped."

"Fuck that." Brittany knocked on the door once more. A few flecks of ash hit the cement underneath her.

The door made a rattling noise like a chain drawn across, but it was followed immediately by the sound of a lock being undone from the inside. Brittany smirked. A quarter of a face emerged from a crack in the door. It didn't matter that they could barely see the woman standing behind it; Santana could tell right away that it was Brenda. She remembered her light brown hair and those eyes.

"What do you want?" The voice asked with equal amounts of annoyance, anger, and hesitation. Brenda hadn't expected the cops to come like this to her door. That made Santana feel wary about the woman. What could she be hiding?

"I'm sure you don't remember me…" Brittany started speaking. Her hand leaned hard on the door to push it to the furthest extent of the gold chain. Brenda jerked back from the door at the sudden and aggressive move. It allowed them to finally get a good look at the woman. Santana had to give Brittany some credit; she had been right when she said Brenda had been hot four years ago. The Latina did remember that ass and it was still fine. Unfortunately, it seemed Brenda had seen better days. Her left eye sported a very recent shiner, the kind that hadn't yet turned that yellow-brown because it was so new. Perhaps Chester really had been through here, or more importantly through Brenda.

It took a moment, but Brenda finally nodded her head. "Remember you? Oh I remember you and the one back there. You're the two bitches that convinced me to put away Chester four years ago. I should have never listened to you. And if I recall correctly you are _not_ a cop so I don't have to let you do jack shit. Now get the fuck off my property before I call the real cops."

Brittany shook her head in amusement, unperturbed by Brenda's threats. She took another long drag on her cigarette before responding. "Do you see what I pulled up in?"

Santana moved to the side to let Brenda have a better view of the cruiser complete with shiny lights, red, and blue all over it.

"So you see some things have changed from four years ago." Brittany said smoothly, but her eyes flickered to the brunette standing at the bottom of the stairs. Had Santana not also looked towards Britt at that exact moment, she would have missed it. A hot flash ran up and down her body at that look. Yes, some things had changed. Yet, it seemed some things remained the same – like the way Brittany could make her heart stop in just a glance.

Brittany continued. "But it looks like some things never do change."

Santana's head whipped up to see if Brittany had read her mind, but the blonde was once again only talking to Brenda. They had always had an uncanny ability to know what each other was thinking.

"Where'd ya get that new make-up? Must be some new style I haven't heard about yet. Does it change colors because that's a real pretty purple right now but I imagine that it's going to change a few more times before it finally wears off. What is that? An eye-shadow that stays on for two weeks? I really need to switch since I have to apply mine every day. It's only the regular 24-hour one."

If Brenda had lost her bite after she saw the police car parked in front of her house; she all but shrunk at Brittany's final comments. Santana almost felt sorry for the woman. That had been brutal.

"So, I can kick your door in and break that pathetic piece of string you've got keeping me out. Or we could do the sensible thing and you let us in. We aren't here to cause any problems. We just want to do a routine check to confirm our suspicions that Chester isn't here and then we can be on our way. We won't have to bother you again until that son of yours turns sixteen and winds up in jail." Again, Brittany's words were cutting and vicious. She flicked the butt of her cigarette to the ground right in front of the door and took time to grind it under her boot. She tipped her hat towards the woman inside and leaned back on the door to give it slack. "So why don't you let us in."

Santana could tell that Brenda felt cornered and scared, but it was something about how she looked back into the house that piqued her interest. Her "partner" had put on quite a show. Brenda's look of fear should have been focused at Brittany and the cop car, not the house behind her. Chester had to be somewhere near.

"Fine. Let me get the chain." Brenda turned back to them and shut the door.

"Good girl." Brittany called through the closed door. She looked back at Santana. The brunette nodded. They understood each other. Chester had to be inside. The bruise was too new and her reactions too guarded. Britt's heart pumped harder. It had been a few days since she had a good tussle with anyone. She hoped Chester would give a fight.

But what about Santana?

Her blue eyes wandered down Santana's body for a long second. The woman refused to dress sensibly. Fuck, a paper bag or a burlap sack would have been a better outfit, but no, the brunette insisted on dressing like a high class escort even when she wasn't in a court room. Maybe she thought convicts would be just as easy to seduce as judges, clients, and those Hollywood types she schmoozed with. Puck should have taken Santana with him on the family tour. How could she possibly trust that Santana wouldn't get herself hurt or make them lose the perp?

The rattling of the chain and the door pulled Britt out of those thoughts.

"Come in. Don't make yourselves at home. I want you gone as soon as possible. Do your thing and then get the fuck out. Okay?"

"Not a problem. Thanks again, hun." Britt winked at her as she pushed past. "Mind if I smoke?"

"I do." Brenda responded curtly.

But Brittany either didn't hear or didn't care because she had already lit another one. "You know they help keep the edge off."

Santana followed after taking her time. Even if they hadn't been partners for four years, she recognized Britt's strategy. The blonde would do her best to keep all of Brenda's attention on her. It allowed Santana to root through her house without the woman constantly hovering or tipping off a hiding Chester.

"If you're going to light up, at least give me one." Brenda said with a sigh.

Britt took one more drag on the one in her mouth and puffed a cloud of smoke towards the other woman. Wordlessly she winked with cocky confidence before she handed over her smoke. Brenda hesitated, but took it with shaky hands. Britt lit up another one. "So, Brenda, are you going to tell me where you got that nasty bruise on your face? You know that I could take care of the son of a bitch who did that to you."

Brittany flipped over a few envelopes on a coffee table as she spoke. Brenda fidgeted next to her. A few of the envelopes were addressed to Chester. Yeah, she was doing a great job covering up his presence in her house.

"It's nothing. I get clumsily sometimes and I fell down the stairs one morning. I didn't have my contacts in."

"Of course." Brittany shrugged.

Santana had already pushed aside a few pairs of pants and shirts from the couch that definitely belonged to a man. One of the pockets had Chester's license in a wallet. Oh yes, the fucker was here. She flashed Brittany the I.D. behind Brenda's back. Brittany glanced at it and nodded subtly. He was here now.

"Brenda." Brittany's voice got serious. It lost its patronizing and condescending tone. "I don't understand why you want to help him. Have you seen yourself in the mirror? He's no good for you. You helped us put him away four years ago, don't make a mistake now."

The shifting tone in the air brought a new reaction from the woman. Her eyes darted back and forth between Santana, Brittany, and the room next to the kitchen.

"I ain't falling for your tricks this time. You need to leave now." She spoke in a voice too loud for their conversation. Her words were meant for Chester's ears. "So why don't you finish up and get the fuck out of my house. I listened to you bitches last time and it ended up being a whole lot of trouble for me."

Brittany inched her way slowly around the kitchen table. Brenda had been cooking something on the stove when she had knocked. It sat simmering in a pot. The table had two place mats set. Two sets of silverware, two cups, and two plates – Brenda definitely wasn't planning to eat alone. Brittany could see the wheels turning in the blonde's head as she put together the scene. The woman began to fidget even more. Her eyes once again darted to the room annexed to the kitchen and closed. But Brittany resisted jumping the gun. She had no idea if Chester was here or that was his room. If he was there, he could be waiting to get the jump on her.

"What were you planning on cooking? Smells good." Brittany flicked some of her ashes into the tray on the table. She leaned over the stove to check out the contents of the pot. "Oh mac and cheese. Classic. And there are Lucky Charms on the table. My favorite cereal. If I didn't know any better, I would have said you were cooking for me or at least someone else because this is an awful lot of food for one woman to eat."

Again, Brenda twitched nervously. Brittany flicked the last of her cigarette into the tray and took one step towards the door Brenda seemed so anxious about. The woman practically flinched. Santana scowled from behind towards her partner, but the blonde seemed too occupied too care that she was practically causing Brenda to suffer a nervous breakdown. Last time, they had been able to break her down till she flipped on her boyfriend. Why did this time have to be different?

Santana took a step forward towards the woman. Cautiously, she reached her hand out touched her softly on the shoulder. The lawyer tried her hardest to give her most comforting voice. She spoke in a whisper. "Brenda, we know that Chester's here."

"You can't possibly know that. You should leave now." Brenda, frantic now, whispered back. Her eyes sliding back and forth between San and Britt.

"You don't have to protect him. We can protect you from him. All you need to do is give him up. Please..."

Brittany took one more step towards the door. Her right hand reached behind her back and grasped onto the piece she had been hiding in the back of her pants. It felt good to have control. Chester couldn't possibly be armed. He liked his bare hands too much. This would give her the advantage. One more step.

"Please, Brenda, let us help you. You don't have to live like this. We are only here to make sure he can't do anymore harm. Don't you and your son deserve better?"

Perhaps the mention of her son changed Brenda's whole perspective. She stopped looking towards Brittany and the door. Her focus was completely on the Latina woman. Had this been four years ago, Santana would have been the one itching to throw open the door to Chester while Brittany would have been distracting Brenda with words of kindness. Its funny how life has a way of flip flopping. Brittany took another step towards the door. This time she undid the safety on her gun, but she kept it hidden as not to alarm Brenda. Santana was doing an excellent job keeping the woman calm. Maybe she could get the jump on Chester afterall.

Unfortunately whatever magic Santana had been working on with Brenda snapped when Brittany took that final step to the door. Her head whipped up - fear and anger in her eyes. Santana lunged forward to try and grab her arm. But it was too late.

"Chester! The cops know you're here! Run, baby!"

"Shit!" Brittany yelled and stepped around prepared to kick open the door, but Chester beat her to it. The door flung wide open into Brittany's face. The blonde flew back a few feet and landed against the table. Santana stared for a moment. Chester hadn't changed too much. A real skinny white guy with greasy locks of hair that swung around his face. The only thing that had changed were a few new tattoos probably from his time in prison.

"Don't run, Chester, and it doesn't have to be hard."

"Fuck you, cunts! I ain't going nowhere near you crazy ass bitches!"

Santana took two steps to run after him. The man lifted up the back window in the kitchen and ducked out running as fast as he could down the fire escape. The brunette was only two steps behind him. But she made it no further. A heavy object landed square on her head. Brenda wanted to fight off the two women. She yelled after Chester. "Run, baby! I'll stop them!"

San grasped the back of her head which stung like crazy now.

Something warm and squishy landed on her shoulder. Actually, her whole head felt like something was covering it. Santana looked down. Macaroni noodles were all over her and falling into her low cut top and dropping down from her hair onto her shoulders to the floor. When she turned around to face the source of the mess, more noodles hit the floor. "You fucking threw the macaroni at me? You are so dead now." Santana lunged after Brenda.

In the meantime, Brittany had since recovered from Chester's surprise burst through the door. She scrambled up and didn't bother to hide the fact that she was packing. With the gun in hand, Brittany took one quick glance to see Santana and Brenda going at it. But she didn't have time to worry about her liability handicap. Santana would have to take care of herself. A quick bound through the window and Brittany looked down just in time to see Chester clearing the last rung of the ladder and booking it through the alleyway.

A box of Lucky Charms exploded next to her head. Brittany didn't care. The only place Chester would be by the end of the day was in a holding cell and an interrogation room.

"Step off, bitch!" Santana spoke with authority. One quick glance around the room and she found her way out of the apartment. Lighting quick reflexes and she was brandishing a large kitchen knife. In high school, Santana had always talked about "going all Lima Heights" on people, but those had been rather empty threats.

In the time since those golden days of high school, Santana had actually learned quite a few tricks to deal with unwanted people and advances. The knife twirled effortlessly in her hand and caught the light from the window. Santana's eyes turned stone cold as she flipped the blade between her knuckles in between her fingers before she turned it in the other woman's direction. Brenda froze. "I thought so, bitch. Now sit down afores I cut you."

The knife bounced up and down pointing towards the furthest kitchen seat. Santana growled. "Don't fucking move."

She looked out the window towards where Brittany had taken off after Chester. There was no way she'd be able to chase after them dressed like this. One quick flick of the wrist and the knife slide all the way down her side through the black material of her skirt. With a long slit up, she'd easily be able to run. Brenda scowled as Santana whacked her heels on the side of the table and snapped them off. It wasn't perfect, but she'd be able to run now. Finally she looked back up at the other woman who sat like a pouting child. "You stay the fuck there and you don't move."

Santana slipped out the back kitchen window just like Chester and Brittany. Chester had just reached the end of the alleyway and was scaling the fence. Brittany wasn't that far behind. Santana discarded the knife down over the stairs into the dumpster and began to run/ jump down three steps at a time. By the time she reached the bottom, Brittany had straddled the top of the fence. The blonde looked up to see Santana land. Their eyes met for a moment. The P.I. on the fence with a gun in her right hand and fire in her blue eyes; the lawyer at the end of the alleyway looking on expectantly. Words and another lifetime passed between them in that moment. The scene had taken place a long time ago. It was so familiar; so uncanny that Santana knew in that moment they were both reliving the past.

They both blinked.

* * *

"_Come on, slow poke!"_

"_I'm coming!"_

"_Lord Tubbington could run faster than you right now!"_

"_Hey we both know LT can't do shit, except eat. Besides, I'm not running so that's your whole problem. I'm walking." Santana cupped her hands around her mouth to project her voice. But whether her girlfriend heard it or not was an entirely different matter. The blonde had been skipping down the street since she first saw their destination. Santana was less optimistic._

"_Fine! I can see you're not running, but I haaaaaaave seen you cum faster!" Brittany teased over her shoulder throwing her a wink as she rounded the corner._

_Despite Santana's normally apathetic nature towards come-ons and sexual observations, she could feel the heat in her cheeks rise at Britt's quip about their sex life in the middle of a sparsely crowded New York street. At bars, clubs, or anywhere, she always had some guy come up to say something like 'Damn, girl you fine' and so on. But she never cared or paid them any attention. Even the occasional girl would make a pass at her, but when Britt did it… Something inside the brunette always bent or opened or something._

_Whatever._

_It just made her blush like a little school girl. She tried not to dwell on it too much. If that was what love felt like, she was in it. Deep._

_Santana did pick up the speed of her walk as much as her cork wedges allowed her. "Hey!"_

_Finally, she rounded the corner as well and came face to face with the monstrosity that had Brittany practically flying on rainbows and unicorns. It was an old building that looked like it had been abandoned during the Industrial Revolution. And if Santana remembered correctly, that had taken place during Europe or something a long time ago when everyone was poor. Needless to say, Santana Lopez couldn't have been less thrilled about Britt's choice of venue browsing today. But she kept it to herself. Or at least she thought she did._

"_You don't like it." Britt said. Her eyes had left the dilapidated crumbling bricks and the rust covered gates of the old warehouse. Her girlfriend, Santana, was a lot of things. Subtle was not one of them._

"_No, its fine, B. I mean…" Santana tried hard to smile, but it looked like a grimace. "It has like…a sort of charm."_

_Brittany couldn't help but to beam at Santana's words. Not because she believed a word her girlfriend was saying - that had been a load of bullshit. She smiled because she knew no matter how much Santana hated the building; she would still try to like it for Britt. "I know it needs a bit of work."_

"_A bit of work? Britt Britt, I love you, but I don't think that even all the Amish could reconstruct this building."_

"_It'll be fun. Besides it won't take that much time, especially if we could get a few hands to help. Rachel's doing nothing besides her singing stuff, Kurt's living with Mercedes not that far away and you know Q will come into the city on weekends to help if we ask her."_

"_But still a __**lot**__ of work, B."_

"_I think you mean a lot of fun." Brittany leaned forward and placed a small kiss on her girlfriend's lips. "Let's check it out."_

_Sure, the kiss had placated her doubts for a half-second. But then Brittany began to climb over the fence that had been chained shut to keep people out. "Britt! What are you doing? We can check it out tomorrow when the realtor comes with the key. Keyword, Britt, is key! Come down here!"_

_The tall, former cheerleader had already effortlessly scaled the corroded gate. She straddled the rusty thing for a moment. Her brilliant smile contrasted the dim setting behind her. Their eyes locked for that single moment – Brittany above and Santana below. In that one moment, they both knew no matter what Santana said to protest, she would follow the blonde bouncing ball of energy, who she called her girlfriend, anywhere. Just like that, they blinked and the connection broke. Brittany landed softly on her feet on the other side of the fencing. From behind the bars, Brittany teased. "I thought you were all badass Lima Heights Adjacent, but since we've come to the real big city I've only seen play-it-safe-Lopez."_

_"Oh you'll see me all Lima Heights in a second and you're going to regret it pushing-me-to-do-reckless-things-Miss-Pierce!"_

_"You've got me shaking in anticipation over here, baby." Brittany answered back flirtatiously. "I'm so scared I might even play some hide-and-go-seek."_

_"Britt!" Santana had just finished climbing the gate and lingered at the top straddling either side. Apparently she had just made it up there only to witness her girlfriend running away. Brittany jimmied open one of the windows next to the big front door. Santana's mouth dropped. What was Brittany thinking? Or better yet, did her blonde girlfriend know how sexy she was being right now? "Shit."_

_An older couple passed by her on the street and looked up with curiosity. Santana smiled almost bordering sarcasm. "I'm just up here enjoying the view."_

_The old man holding onto his wife's arm gave her a crooked smile back as if he understood a joke she didn't. "I can't imagine what you could be looking at. That building's been condemned forever. But I can tell you, there's quite a view from where I am looking down here."_

_His cane waved in the air pointing upwards. Santana made a face. What the fuck was he talkin-_

_The tanned beauty glanced down at her outfit. She had wanted to wear a cute sundress because it was so hot outside. Straddling the gate like she was, the old geezer probably did enjoy the view. "Gross!" _

_The old woman chuckled approvingly at her husband's observation. Upon seeing Santana's shocked look, she gave her husband the customary shot in the arm as if to reprimand him. "Dirty old men. Let the poor girl go pursue her nymph. That blonde fairy that just skipped off. I'm sure you can catch up to her. One should always wholeheartedly chase after magic when it appears. But you should keep your eyes to the ground, Barry. He didn't mean any harm, sweetheart. Have a good day now."_

_What had just happened? These things were supposed to happen to Brittany – not to her. She shook her head before taking the leap from the top of the gate. Her dress snagged at the last minute. The material ripped the bottom of the hem out. Material hung awkwardly from the rip. Great. Another outfit ruined because she couldn't resist following her girlfriend. And her girlfriend couldn't resist exploring everything. It made for the perfect combination. At least it gave her an excuse to go out clothes shopping. _

_Now clothes shopping with Britt – that was an adventure. They never had to buy anything, but they always had to try out the dressing rooms. _

_Santana worked her way through the open window and fell onto the floor of the old abandoned building. Thankfully most of the windows were broken so sunlight lit up the area. The old building must have housed a large room for whatever they had produced because the space was large and expansive. There were lines where it looked like large pieces of equipment had been dragged out leaving just nothing. _

"_Don't you see it?" Brittany's voice echoed all around the room. _

_Santana smiled softly to herself. Once again, Brittany was reading her thoughts. But where was the feisty blonde. Dark eyes scanned the room. There couldn't be many places to hide here, yet Brittany managed to elude her. Giving up, Santana sighed and answered Britt's question. "See what? See you? Because I don't see you anywhere!"_

"_No, silly!" A voice giggled in response. _

"_Well show me what you see! Come out here." Santana took a few steps forward over the dusty and dirty floor towards where she could only guess Brittany was hiding. There were other doors that probably led to a few other rooms. But this was definitely the main one. _

"_My dance studio. I could have class in here all the time."_

"_We haven't even looked at all the places yet! You aren't just picking this one because it's the first one you could have an adventure in, is it?" Santana asked, but she began to look around. Perhaps it was Brittany's influence after all these years, but she could see it. Britt dancing, the mirrors on the walls, the stations, other dancers, and maybe Mike teaching another class._

_Finally she spotted the source of the Brittany's projected voice. Above her in the corner of the large room was a small intercom. It's amazing that the thing still worked and that Brittany had found it so fast. Maybe this place was meant for her. Now she just had to find the actual source of the noise, her elusive girlfriend. The old woman had been accurate when she called Brittany a nymph. A wire connected to the intercom ran down the wall and into a small hole above one of the doorways. Santana smirked. At least she could still find Brittany. _

_The girl flung open the door with a triumphant smile on her face ready to be greeted by a cute blonde. Instead the door led into a hallway, but she could still see the wire snaking along the ceiling. The best she could do was to follow it and hope it led to her girlfriend. Only three steps into the hallway and she felt something brush her face. Frightened it was a spiderweb, Santana quickly swatted at it, but her hand came away with soft material. She opened it up. _

_Brittany's shirt had been dangling from the light. _

"_What the-? B, why'd ya take your shirt off? Are you playing a game?" Santana called out, but she got no response. A few steps further down the hall and she found Britt's jean shorts casually tossed onto the cement floor. Santana bent over and scooped them up to add to the now growing collection of Brittany's clothing in her arms. "Britt? Are you just running around here naked?"_

_The little light that penetrated the hallway revealed something not far ahead. It wasn't in the shape of a person, but it had to be Britt's doing. Santana reached her hand out and pulled at Britt's necklace which she had wrapped round the light and dangled down. But when she went to tug it, it caught on something else. Another look at the necklace revealed that it had also been wound around a door knob. At least Brittany was giving her clues through the old factory. _

"_B, are you in here?" Santana called through the door as she pulled it open. She made it no further as she ran into something else. This time it was Brittany's bra stretched across the doorway at chest length impeding her path. Santana put her hand out to remove what had to be Britt's last piece of clothing besides her panties. Somewhere very close, her girlfriend was probably dancing naked to a routine in her head. Santana couldn't help it. Her mouth curved into a knowing smile at the thought of Britt dancing naked in anticipation of the dance classes she wanted to teach. Her fingers fumbled to find whatever the yellow bra was hooked on. _

"_Don't unlatch it." Brittany's voice boomed from somewhere inside the room. Santana's fingers jerked, but not away from the strap. _

"_Why?"_

"_Because if you unhook that bra, we leave right away and we don't even call the realtor to officially check out this place."_

_Santana's face scrunched at the proposition. She hadn't exactly been thrilled about this place. So she could live without buying it or renting it or whatever Britt wanted to do. _

"_That's fine with me!" Santana's fingers went back to work as she looked around the doorframe trying to locate how Brittany had strung her bra across so efficiently. _

_A light flicked on. Santana held her hand up to cover her eyes until they readjusted to the light. She could see a desk in the darkness, a chair, a few filing cabinets. At one point this room had been used as an office. But what it held now was much more in important. Caught in the spot light, Santana saw legs. Legs that started at yellow wedges that made Brittany's already muscular calves strikingly defined against the stark office. Those legs were only the beginning and they seemed to go on forever. _

_Oh wait. They had a destination. Santana felt her heart rapidly beating as she caught a glimpse of her lover's thong. Brittany had made a point to pose for her girlfriend. The blonde bent over the desk naked expect for the tiny strips of material barely covering her. So they were playing that game. Her ass swung enticingly from the side of the desk as she had cocked one arm on the surface of the desk to hold her head up. Her blue eyes sparkled playfully. Clearly Brittany knew exactly what she was doing. Her pearly white teeth caught hold of her bottom lip and held it for what seemed like forever before it dragged tantalizingly slow away. Afterwards she wet both her upper and lower lips with her pink tongue. _

_Fuck. _

_Now Santana fumbled at the door trying to get into the room, but again Brittany stopped her. Not physically, but with a sing-song voice purposefully teasing. "Baby, I just said if you remove that bra we have to go home because you'll have collected all my clothes. So we're going to play it a little differently."_

_Brittany made a show as she slowly arched her back down so her ass stuck up till she finally pushed herself off the desk. Her hands ran over through her hair. Down they travelled across her neck along her collarbone. They dipped down to her tits and she winked, biting her bottom lip as she squeezed them for her girlfriend. _

"_What? I'm taking this thing off and I am joining you… like…now." Santana practically growled. _

"_Nope. You stay behind that barrier while I convince you that you love this place and it's perfect. If my argument is good, you'll have no reason to cross that line. But if you don't like it then you can remove the bra at anytime and come collect me. Then we can leave and find a new place."_

"_What? Are you kidding? I have to stand out here while you strip and make me all hot and bothered? Britt, this is not a good game." Santana could already feel how slick she was between her legs. She wouldn't last long with Brittany acting like a sex goddess only a few feet away._

"_Don't do it, Sanny baby. Trust me. Besides I'm not stripping, I am giving you my argument in the form of sexual persuasion. If you don't like it, you can end it at anytime." The blonde winked at her. She knew her girlfriend wouldn't move now that the game was on. She strutted around the desk. Her fingers brushed against the surface next to her before she stopped at the light. Her arms wrapped around it. "I really liked that amount of space we'd have here, the lighting, and the room for all the classes I want to teach." _

_She wrapped one leg around the light pole and worked it hard. Her whole body dropped as she held the pole in one hand. When her ass touched the back of her wedges and her boobs run down either side of the light fixture, Santana's body flushed in excitement. _

_Fuck. _

"_B…" Brittany's name got stuck in her throat. Her tongue hit the roof of her mouth as she attempted control the urge to rip through the barrier and run her hands up and down her girlfriend's incredible body. Wanton desire increased. Her knuckles turned white as she tried to remain steady in the doorframe. "Babe…please just let me come in…"_

"_I'm not done yet." Britt took her time as she stood back up. Her almost naked body pushed scandalously against the light. She lingered with prolonged eye contact. "Tell me you what you want to hear about next. Tell me how much you want to hear about the office."_

"_Fuck." Santana did moan this time. She loved it when Brittany used that authoritative voice with her. It meant the end of her willpower. "Please tell me more, Britt. I'm begging you…"_

"_Not yet, but you will be…" Britt's responded after a beat. The blonde was now working her way over to a broken window that would have looked out to the street in front of the building had not years of dirt and misuse caused it to turn back. She placed her hands on either side throwing her ass out for Santana to watch as she swayed it side to side. "We'd have a great office to use with a nice view outside. Of course, we'd have to close it sometimes and maybe draw the shades for some… private time."_

_Mesmerized, Santana could barely follow Brittany's train of thought regarding the building. She was looking elsewhere. However, she did manage to catch some words. She squeezed her thighs together underneath her dress trying to rub out some of the pressure. She repeated. "Nice view. Shades. Private time…mhmm. I think I'd like that…"_

"_Would you?" Brittany teased. She tossed her golden hair back as her blue eyes sparkled. One hand lazily made its way down her side. Her thumb dragged over her erect nipple. Dark brown eyes across the room did not miss the small touch or the way Brittany shivered at the contact. "How about this chair? And this big desk? Would you like me to sit in it?"_

"_Yes…" Santana whispered hoarsely. _

_Brittany once more crossed the room as if it were a runway. The grime and dirt faded to glitter and gold walkways underneath her wedges. Her creamy skin stood out and her tits bounced with every tap of her shoes. Her hair blew back wistfully crossing her face sometimes obscuring her cheeks or nose, but never those eyes. With the same power interwoven in her voice, Brittany pulled the old chair out for the desk. Long legs stretched out as she settled into the chair. Her shoes hit the edge of the desk as she spread her legs out wide exposing herself completely for her girlfriend's hungry eyes. "How would you like to come in here after your classes and see me at this desk?"_

"_B, you're killing me…" Santana strained the bra against the door keeping her out. _

"_Tell me you love it." Brittany bit her bottom lip. Her hands started at her ankles and ran up her toned legs. Her nails lightly grazed over her thighs before dipping between. They met in the middle. Her left hand continued up to her breasts and she started to knead her own boob, thumbing at her nipple. While her other hand remained below. One finger ran up and down the yellow material of her thong. Already wet, Santana could see liquid glistening from her finger and darkening the material. _

"_I love it, Britt. I love it so much." Santana's eyes were still dark with desire gazing on her insatiable girl. "I want to come back from class every day and close your door and crawl on my hands and knees to you in that big desk and lick your pussy until everyone in the dance studio can hear you cum."_

_Now it was Brittany's turn to moan. Her head tilted until it hit the back of the chair. Her right hand pulled aside the thong she had been playing with. "Mmm- so does that mean you want this place? Is it perfect?"_

"_Baby, I want this place more than you can imagine. I __**need**__ it as soon as possible. Please let me come in and show you how perfect I think it is." Neither of them was thinking about the old building anymore. Lust, love, and playfulness were fully inflamed between them. Anymore teasing would be like death. _

_Brittany nodded. Her fingers were slipping in between her slick slit. Panting, Britt responded. Her other hand lifted while her finger hooked at the air indicating that Santana needed to join her. "Come here and show me."_

* * *

At the same time, their eyes opened. For half a second more they remained perfectly still. Heaviness settled between them. Their eyes still locked as they both firmly returned to the present. Santana's breathing increased. She already knew her decision and the dark shadows in Brittany's eyes meant the blonde understood as well. Yet neither could tear themselves away. And every half second they spent dealing with their history meant another half second to let Chester get further and further away. A siren went off in the distance. The noise startled them out of their reveries. Brittany didn't hesitate, just like she didn't that day at the factory. The blonde effortlessly landed on the other side of the fence and didn't have time to look back to see if Santana would follow or not. Her boots hit the cement with increasing speed after Chester. Santana, however, hadn't moved. She couldn't. That day so many years ago, she had followed without even blinking because she could trust Brittany. She had known then that no matter what happened or where they were, she'd trust her.

Not today.

Not this Brittany.

Santana turned and went out the alleyway in the opposite direction towards the front of the house. They would have to do this separately and hope that one of them could catch Chester before he slipped through their hands. Her heart beat mimicked the pounding of her broken heels on the ground. But she couldn't give into the ache in her heart. Chester was the priority at the moment and the Strangler the reason she was here. Nothing and no one else.

* * *

**Hey! Thanks for reading this chapter! I wanted to give you something special since you have all been so patient and awesome with your responses. I would love to know how you felt about the flashback because it kills me writing how great they used to be and then how bad they are at the present. I get all angsty! Tell me how you felt about the flashback! Because I have others in my head!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Whoa! The reviews from the last chapter were pure gold! They had me laughing, lamenting with you, excited for the next chapter, and wishing there was a faster way for me to translate all the ideas, storylines, and plots inside my head onto the computer faster! You guys make writing so enjoyable! Thank you! **

**(Don't worry! I love making everyone hot and bothered so there will be more of that soon – if you are looking for a fix, I do have a one-shot and my other completed story has quite a few moments of smutastic excitement!) **

**A special thanks to the people who ALWAYS give me feedback! Another thank you for the new people who responded to my chapter! And a WELCOME to all the new readers who just joined us! Hopefully I can hear from you soon!**

**Without further ado, I present…**

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 5**

Sirens in the distance.

Not for her.

Not yet.

No need to involve the boys in blue yet. They always got in the way. Besides they would only see this as her screw up. Fuckers didn't know the difference between good investigator work and finding out which of the neighbors' dogs took a shit in their lawn. Police made everything messy with their paperwork and their bureaucracy – their pretentious bull shit. They were the reason they couldn't catch the Strangler last time. She could have ended this mess four years ago, but no. Who would believe an investigator who ran a dance studio and advertised her investigating business with a fat cat wearing a Sherlock Holmes hat?

No one.

Now that she had dropped all that, including the woman who booked it the opposite direction a few minutes ago, they still barely took her serious.

Fuck them.

She had things to prove, but just not to anyone living.

"Get the fuck out of the way!" The blonde burst onto the street into a thick crowd of people. Ahead of her, Chester was pushing and shoving bodies, trying to create obstacles to prevent Brittany from catching up to him. "Move! Come on!"

Britt wasn't gentle with the civilians either. But once they caught sight of the firearm waving her hand, they began to part the seas quicker and quicker. When Brittany figured out why they were moving, she brought the gun up in front of her body to make it easier to see. In her other hand, she had pulled out her investigator license which she held in a black leather case similar to some of the detectives. The gun and badge-like object in her hands helped to clear a path through the sidewalk.

Chester crossed the street, attempting to put distance between them. Brittany saw her chance to gain some ground. She lifted her gun in the air and shot it above her head. The noise reverberated off cars and echoed throughout the street. Chester looked back, panic in his eyes. The P.I. cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted. "POLICE! GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

The crowd instantly backed away from the source of the gunshot and began to scatter wildly. Not exactly the response she had hoped for, but she would make the best of it. A man in front of her had dropped like a basket. Blue eyes were zeroed on Chester's back. She would catch him no matter what. Without a second thought, Brittany took a step forward and placed her right boot on the man's back for leverage as she catapulted herself through the crowd. All she needed was that little bit of momentum to give her speed. She crashed into the street with a resounding thud as her boots made hard contact with the concrete.

A car came to a screeching halt an inch from colliding into her. Brittany slammed her hand on the hood making sure to wave the gun. The driver honked at her annoyed, but Brittany was already moving through the street. Chester wasn't too far ahead. The little bastard wasn't making good time by taking this route. Besides, how could he know that despite Brittany's current state of living, the girl had been a cheerleading national champion and incredible dancer. Sure she wasn't in the best shape of her life with all the drinking and the poor diet, but she was definitely in better shape than most people.

"Chester! Don't make this harder than it has to be!" She shouted at the same time a car finally did run into her side. Luckily it hadn't been going fast.

"Fuck!" The blonde yelled as she was thrown a few feet to the ground. The driver got out of the car and attempted to help her.

"I'm sorry! I didn't even see you! Are you okay? Do you need an ambulance?"

"No! Just help me up!" Brittany put out her hand. But the moment the man caught sight of the gun, he hesitated. Brittany noticed the way he balked. With a groan, she pushed herself up and stood. "Whatever. Thanks anyway."

Again, she started through the street trying to ignore the incredible pain in her left leg. Yup, that would hurt for awhile. And she didn't have insurance to get it checked out. Luckily, for the moment, Brittany could only feel the adrenaline pumping through her body. Adrenaline felt no pain and didn't know the difference between a crippling blow and a body that could run a marathon. Brittany's body suppressed the pain. She finally cleared the dangerous street and hit the sidewalk again. This time people were already out of the way as Chester had just flown passed. Most of the people had actually pulled out their phones. Some were talking excitedly, but most were taking video of the crazed blonde chasing the man through the streets of New York.

Chester cut into an alleyway, this time Britt was sure she had him. She sprinted after him. Right as she was about to round the corner, a door opened and she had to leap to the side to avoid colliding with the glass. The movement jarred her leg again. This time she felt it. She limped into the alleyway. Chester stood in the middle and had turned around to see how far behind his pursuer was. He saw Britt limping into the entrance and smirked.

"Dumb, bitch! You should not have followed me here." The smirk on his face twisted to reveal his terrible intentions. Brittany's mind flipped through his file in her head. Chester wasn't one for being particularly brave thus why he was so good at beating on women. He never provoked a fight, but when given the opportunity to attack a defeated opponent or someone physically weaker, Chester jumped. He took a few menacing steps forward. Brittany knew that she had to stop him before he came any closer. She raised the gun up and pointed it straight at him. Chester froze. His hand raised in the air, but his feet started to move back slowly. "Don't have to do that, blondie. I wasn't gonna do nothing."

"Fuck you." Brittany spoke calmly, her voice didn't raise and the gun never faltered. "Stop moving and get on the fucking ground before I stop you from moving."

"I didn't do nothing, so you ain't gonna fucking shoot me. You can point that piece at me all fucking day." Chester dared her now trying to test the extent of Brittany's determination. Clearly, he hadn't been keeping up with Brittany's personal life the past four years, or he wouldn't have even bothered. The blonde raised the gun in the air and fired off another shot.

"You think I won't fucking shoot you? Think again, asshole. I am sick of running my ass off chasing you. It would be much easier to shoot you in the leg and let the police figure out how to wheel you around in prison for the rest of your life."

"You wouldn't shoot me. You're a fucking cop." Chester said. His eyes darted behind him and Brittany could see him calculating how far away it was to the end of the alleyway. If he made it that far, Britt knew that she wouldn't be able to catch up then. Her left leg was throbbing.

"Chester, honey, I don't know what you heard when you were holed up in that little closet of yours at Brenda's place, but I am no cop. I'm barely allowed to enter the station. They know I'm a loose cannon and that I drink on the job. And yet they still sent me to collect you. What does that say about how much they care about your safety? In fact, they are probably hoping I take you out so they won't have to deal with your sorry ass anymore."

"You wouldn't."

Britt took another step forward. She would. Chester just didn't know. The gun pointed straight at the man. He backed up a few more steps. Her voice took on that direct tone that meant she was serious. "Don't."

The light caught her eyes and her vision waivered. Brittany felt the sun even though it had been a relativity cloudy day. She didn't pull out her gun often. Shit. She knew how to use it. She knew when to use it. Why was it so hard to point it at him? The blonde struggled internally now even if her face showed no lack of resolve. Chester didn't want to wait for the blonde to decide to pull the trigger. He had dealt with the chick so long ago. Back then she had been strange. He knew that one of her friends had just been murdered and that they were trying to pin it on him. But he did not remember this look in her eyes. It frightened him. This wasn't the same person he had dealt with all those years ago.

He took another step, ready to run for it. Brittany steeled herself. The blonde shook off all those doubts. Three deep breaths. If he ran, she would shoot.

One.

Her breathing had been shaky, but now it began to steady. Her finger readjusted itself on the trigger. Those blue eyes steeled.

Two.

Chester must have realized that Brittany wasn't fucking around. He turned around completely now and started to book it out of the alleyway hoping to beat the bullet. Brittany's mind was completely focused. She didn't even care that he had started to run. The gun rose in front of her as she took aim. Chester hit the end of the street.

Three.

Her finger squeezed around the trigger. The cop car ran up the curb and hit into Chester right as the man cleared the street. The sirens were blaring now echoing up and down the alleyway. Brittany still had her finger poised ready to shoot. She had a clear shot at his leg. Chester had flipped over onto the hood of Puck's car. A brunette sat in the front seat, but Brittany didn't want to notice who steered the car.

"Brittany!" A voice jarred her from her concentration. Brittany felt the whole world come rushing back in. The sirens were too loud and vibrated the stones beneath her. The flashing lights bounced off the walls and into her eyes. She dropped the gun back down to her side.

Santana.

Now she could see that the driver was the feisty Latina who had taken to the car to help give chase to Chester. Yes, it had been Santana's voice that had stopped her from shooting, but now, it was the look on Santana's face that pulled the blonde completely back from the brink. Brittany tried to push away all the feelings that came with the world. Anger - that she hadn't pulled the trigger sooner on Chester; that her leg felt terrible; that she felt forced to use the gun. Relief because Santana seemed to be in one piece and that she had stopped her from using the firearm. Before anything could be said about the gun, Brittany stuffed it back behind her and tucked it, safety-on, in her pants. Behind her, Brittany located her hat. It had blown off. She readjusted it and watched as Santana got out of the car. She had found Puck's handcuffs in the glove compartment.

Had she been anyone other than Brittany's former lover, the blonde would have been turned on by the aggressive way Santana man handled Chester up over the hood of the cop car. Fuck. Brittany was turned on. Except she wouldn't make the moves; she wouldn't saunter over there and hit on her after the arrest, ask for a drink and where she learned those moves. Brittany was about to move forward to help Santana finish cuffing him when the blonde noticed that her partner wasn't dressed the way she remembered. Her eyes caught sight of Santana's toned thigh out of the tight pencil skirt and she was no longer wearing her heels.

Well now she had to watch this.

Santana had pressed Chester's head onto the car so his face was plastered to paint. Her knee came up and spread his legs wide. The handcuffs were being worked by her left hand as her right hand kept his arms pinned together. Hot. Once she had finished cuffing him, Santana looked up. Dark eyes searched for Brittany, obviously wondering why she hadn't come over to help.

"Brittany…"

"What?" She answered perhaps too sharp. As Santana rolled her eyes and walked away with Chester towards the back of the car. "Let's get him back to Macklin so we can start getting to the real killer. This punk's a piece of shit, but he's too dumb to get away with anything except beating up his girl."

Santana didn't say anything else. Her eyes went towards Brittany's legs as she noticed the woman's strange limp, but she chose to ignore it. She threw Chester into the backseat and went straight for the driver's side of the car. Brittany frowned for a moment. "You're driving?"

"Yeah, I've had about enough of your driving for the day. Besides, I want our perp to be conscious when we arrive." Santana closed the cage and window separating the backseat from the cabin. Brittany didn't argue, but she did scowl as the car pulled out of the alleyway and Santana pulled out onto the street.

"So…good job blocking the street off like that." Brittany mumbled. "I would have gotten him though. There was no need for you to mount the sidewalk like that…"

Brittany knew that it wasn't a necessary comment, but she needed to fill the silence. Chester banged on the glass behind them with his foot, but it barely made a noise in the front cabin. She waited for Santana to retort with some snarky comment about how Brittany wouldn't have caught up with Chester or how they shouldn't have split up.

"You did a good job tracking him down. I would have been pressed to catch up to you two on foot especially dressed like this." Santana finally turned to look at Brittany. A slow tentative smile spread over her face. She had made the decision to not follow the blonde and Brittany knew it. But they didn't have to address their personal problems just yet. "Besides I wanted to drive the car." Her eyes glanced down towards the blonde's legs. Under Santana's intense scrutiny, Britt fidgeted. "What did you do to your leg?"

"Nothing." Brittany said too quickly to convince either of them. Santana raised one eyebrow questioningly with that look on her face. With a sigh, Brittany rubbed at her upper thigh to test out the area. "I must have messed it up during the chase."

"Messed it up?" Again, Santana gave her a look that demanded the truth and quickly.

"I got hit by a car. And then I got hit by a door and someone else. It wasn't the prettiest of chases." Brittany scrunched her face annoyed that she had to admit to injury to Santana. She expected some sort of reprimand. The old San would have said something about staying together and being careful.

Instead, this woman threw back her head and started to laugh. "You got hit by a car? What? Were you just walking out in front of traffic?'"

"No!" Britt answered in response. But again, Santana's eyebrows worked to extract the truth. "Maybe…"

Santana kept laughing as they turned onto Chester's street to start heading back to the station. It was the first time the Latina's eyes lit up like they used to do. "Good job! Maybe Mack will put you on traffic duty next."

"Hey!" Brittany chortled. "At least I don't have macaroni and cheese all over my clothes and what's this?"

The blonde crossed the great divide. Her hands moved through the air towards Santana's face. The brunette froze. And she was thankful for the steering wheel to keep her anchored. Her heart raced as those long, strong fingers parted her hair over her ear. The brush of Brittany's skin on her earlobe made her skin feel like fire. Her breath caught in her throat. And from the look in Brittany's eyes, she knew the blonde had to be feeling the same thing. This was too close. Much too close. Brittany extracted a few Lucky Charms marshmallows and allowed them to fall down to the seat. Britt wasn't paying attention to the collection of Brenda's food caught in Santana's long hair anymore.

"Brittany…" Santana barely spoke above a whisper. They had so much to talk about. So much history, so many things unsaid and far too many words said that she couldn't take back. "I-we need to-"

The car lurched suddenly spinning out of control. Her head rushed forward and hit the steering wheel before the airbags deployed. Any contact with Brittany was lost as another car had literally rammed itself into hood of Puck's cruiser. Santana's head pounded with incredible pain. She reached up and touched her forehead. It came away bloodied.

"What the fuck?" Britt groaned next to her. The blonde suffered a similar fate. Luckily her airbags had deployed in time. Her blue eyes looked up to see who had crashed into them. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

The woman slammed her hands on the dash and coughed from the dust from the deployment of the airbags. But her eyes had murder in them. Santana followed Brittany's line of sight to the front seat of the other car. The woman driving the other car seemed pleased with herself. All Santana could see was a line of blood dripping down her face over her already bruised eyes.

"Fucking Brenda."

"Call it in. I'm gonna cuff this bitch too. Chester, you still alive back there? Who knows if your girlfriend was trying to kill you or save you? Either way, she did a shitty job." Brittany knocked on the glass that separated them. It seemed besides the damage upfront, Brenda had not succeeded in freeing her beau. The window smeared with a wad of spit. Chester didn't seem pleased.

"Call it in? Great. Puck's gonna be pissed."

"Puck?" Brittany barked a short laugh. "Ha! Its Macklin's who's gonna be pissed. Fucking bitch. Just couldn't give him up. Chester ain't worth shit."

The blonde struggled to push open her door, but once she was out, she proceeded to give Brenda a piece of her mind. She pulled the woman out of the car and cuffed her as well. And despite Brenda's pleas, Brittany didn't throw her in the back of the cop car with Chester. Instead, Brittany stood outside with her to wait for the real officers to arrive and sort this mess out.

* * *

"I can't believe you totaled my car!"

"I totaled your car? Puck! The bitch drove into us! I didn't know she was that crazy or we would have restrained her! How could we have known that she wanted to play demolition derby? Not my fault!" Brittany yelled back at Puck.

Puck ran a hand over his shaven head, clearly in distress. He looked over at Brenda and Chester handcuffed to the bench waiting to be processed. "I wasn't even supposed to give you my car! You're barely a P.I. and you're definitely not employed by the department."

"Hey! I'm technically a consultant and I am being compensated." Santana replied smoothly.

"You were the one driving my car!"

"And she drove hers into it!" Brittany butted back into the conversation.

"How am I going to explain this to-"

"Puckerman, the chief wants to see you in his-"

"I know! I know!" Puck shouted back at Macklin's messenger. Of course the chief wanted to see him! He pointed at both Santana and Brittany. "You two are coming with me! And somebody needs to book these two idiots. I want Chester processed as soon as possible. He needs to be in Interrogation Room number 3 as soon as possible. Let's move people."

Brittany hadn't expected a round of applause or even a handshake from the department. But the utter lack of activity and acknowledgement baffled her. She felt cheated. Sure, they had wrecked a department cruiser, but they had caught Chester in no time and without wasting time. Nothing. A whole lot of nothing. They had a serial killer on the loose and it seemed the department was moving at a snail's pace. She couldn't contain her scowl.

Puck knocked sheepishly on Macklin's door.

"Enter."

"Look, chief. I can explain-"

"Shut up, Puckerman, and all three of you sit down." Macklin once again sat behind his desk with papers stacked up right underneath his chin. "I don't want excuses. I want answers."

Brittany and Santana sat on opposite sides of their friend. Even though they were the ones who had wrecked the car, Puck jumped in to explain. "I gave the car in order to help speed up their investigation. I thought it would help give them some legitimacy and leverage in tracking down Chester. As I understand it, they were not to blame for the mess that happened with the car accident."

Macklin's face turned one of his shades of purple. "Pierce."

"What? We apprehended the suspect. Unfortunately, his girlfriend was feeling a bit crazy today and decided that that she could literally stop us by hitting her car into ours. We had no idea the bitch would go crazy. But we got Chester. He should be in processing right now."

"You were supposed to cost me less money by taking care of this problem without any additional aggravations. Instead, you cost me a car!" Macklin roared. "Not only that, but you discharged a gun in the middle of the street. Not once, but twice! Do you know the kinds of harm you do to the image of this department by running around the streets like a mad woman with a gun waving around calling yourself a cop?"

Santana's frown deepened at this information. Her dark eyes shifted towards Puck, but the man did the smart thing and attempted to avoid the look.

Macklin's face had turned various shades of violet. Obviously, the two women were not good for his blood pressure. He couldn't stop himself from huffing and puffing. It was one of the best impersonations of the big bad wolf that Brittany had ever seen. After a moment, he settled back into his chair and stroked his salt and pepper beard. His eyes went from Brittany's to Santana's, as if weighing their worth. "But you two somehow found a rat that had been under his parole officer's radar for the past two weeks. And you brought him in alive and relatively unharmed. I already have an officer and a detective chosen to begin the interrogations. You are welcome to observe."

Puck let out a big sigh of relief at Macklin's final words and both apologizing and thanking the chief for his magnanimity and forgiveness. The blonde rolled her eyes unaffected by Macklin either way. She had done her job. But she knew that Chester wasn't their guy. She had followed him closely the last time four years ago. He was an asshole, a coward, and a woman beater. But he wasn't capable of the meticulous and sadistic posing of the bodies like the Strangler. She wanted to make sure the department wasn't taking the easy way out by trying to pin the murders on him.

"I'll be watching the interrogation. I want to make sure it's done properly."

"Fine. Puck will get you a pass. I want no interference from you."

"Not a problem. I can play nice." Brittany smirked and tipped her hat as she stood. For a moment she lingered about to ask if Santana would join her.

But Santana beat her. "I want to talk to the medical examiner. If it would be possible, I want to see the body of the newest victim for myself. I don't want this to be the same guy, but I need to be sure who we are chasing."

Macklin frowned for a moment, but nodded. "I think that's a fair request. I can have one of my officers escort you down. An autopsy is being performed as we speak. I did ask for your opinion. I do expect your thoughts on the matter afterwards." He paused. "Does this mean I can count on you to remain in New York and assist in our investigation?"

Her body stiffened at the request and she refused to turn to look at Brittany. "Yes."

"Good. Let's get moving. I want to have a lead before the end of the day."

An officer was waiting outside the office to bring Santana to the medical examiner's room in the basement. Brittany was already moving towards the interrogation rooms without the pass that Macklin had told her to get. She didn't care. Puck lingered at the doorway to watch the backside of each woman as they strutted away. Well, one of them strutted. The other one sort of limped with attitude. Macklin also paused next to his detective.

"I don't know what to call it, but whatever it is, they still got it."

"I think you called it magic, sir."

"Magic? Vodoo? Chemistry? Whatever. It still works. It almost caught this bastard last time. Maybe it will work again."

"They are struggling, sir. They aren't what they used to be.

"I know. It's not hard to see that. But maybe that pain will be the difference between then and now. I don't know. But we've got nothing else to go on. So until we get a solid lead, we're stuck relying on them to solve the case from four years ago. Hopefully they see something they missed last time. We just need to get them going again."

"Who do you want me to go with?"

Macklin turned and slapped him in the back of the head. "Are you seriously asking me that question, boy? Which one do you think?"

"Ow!" Puck rubbed at the sore spot. "Fine! Fine! I'll be with Brittany in the interrogation room if you need me."

"I won't. Now get out of here. I don't trust that woman for more than five minutes by herself before she starts a fight or is fucking half my department just for the fun of it. She can be a crazy bitch."

* * *

"Miss Lopez, please come in. I've been expecting you. I already got the call to say that you wanted to be present during my examination."

"Thank you, Dr. Mitchell, for letting me observe. I know it's been awhile since I've been around."

"Trust me, the pleasure is all mine. It's not often that I get to look at something besides dead corpses. And I don't think anything could be prettier than yourself."

"You're too kind. If I didn't know the team you played for, I would almost think that you were hitting on me." Santana finished dressing into clean scrubs to enter the area, but she remained a few feet away to give him some space.

"Just because I am gay doesn't mean I can't appreciate beauty where I see it." He had already cut open Anne Robinson. She had come in halfway during the autopsy. "I just wish we could be seeing each other under different circumstances. I hear that you are out in California now."

"I am."

* * *

Brittany stood at the two-way mirror of the interrogation room. Chester sat at the table looking smug and pleased with himself. Even if the department couldn't pin anything on him in relation to the Midnight Strangler, the bastard would be back in jail for skipping out on parole. Some idiots never learned. The reason for his pleasure? Britt could only guess. Some convicts couldn't survive after they had been in the big house for so long. They normally ended back up in jail. Maybe Chester had gotten used to the life.

Puck stood next to her running his hands over his head again. Sometimes she wished that he wouldn't do that all the time. It was a horrible habit to get into since he gave away when he was feeling particularly nervous about something.

"What's wrong?"

Puck jumped like he had been startled out of some inner thoughts. "Nothing."

"Well stop rubbing your head like that. Or tell me the reason why you're acting weird."

"It's nothing." He said already running his hands once more over his buzzed crown. Brittany growled and he dropped his hand with a sigh. "I just got off the phone with the hospital. We took Brenda there after we looked at her injuries. We thought they were just surface cuts and bruises from the car crash, but our medic said to get her over to the hospital. The doctor says that she'll have to go under for surgery. Internal damage – not from the crash. It looks bad and it couldn't have come from the accident."

"Chester." Brittany's eyes narrowed towards the man in the other room. "He's a piece of shit. He should have never been let out early."

"That's the way the system works, B."

"The system's broke if it lets people like him out to beat up on more women."

"Yeah, well we can't do anything about it. We just got to keep doing our job. He'll be back in after his little stunt and blowing parole."

"We're wasting our time with him. He knows nothing." Brittany's fingers itched towards her pockets, but resisted the urge to light up. Macklin didn't need another reason to be mad at her. Puck shrugged and flipped the switch on to listen to the conversation happening on the other side.

"I told you fuckers, I was with my girl."

"Brenda?"

"No, you fucking deaf? I have like three pieces on the side. I was using that bitch to stay low." Chester smirked and leaned back in his chair.

The detective wasn't too pleased with Chester's response. He pointed his finger to the table angrily. "Brenda is in the hospital right now suffering from a beating I'm sure you dished out. You talk with respect when addressing me and talking about a lady."

"A whore ain't no lady. And that cunt is definitively a whore." Chester dared.

The police officer assigned to the room came behind Chester's chair and gave it a good whack as a warning to the man. "Watch your mouth."

"Back to the question. What is the woman's name who you were with the night of Anne Robinson's death?"

"Apple Candy."

"Apple Candy? You think you're real funny huh?"

"Normally, but that's her fucking working name. I forget where, but I can tell you her daddy's name."

"Write it down." The detective passed him the pen and pad. Chester did so.

"We aren't getting anywhere with this asshole." Brittany growled again.

"He isn't going to be cut loose, B."

"I want a few minutes with him."

"It ain't gonna happen, Britt." Puck shook his head. The door behind them opened, but neither of them turned around to see who entered. "Your pass only lets you observe. Besides, I know what you'd do if you were allowed in there."

"He was in a car accident today, Puck. I want to make sure he looks like it when he gets thrown back into jail." Brittany's hand curled into a fist against the glass. "There's a woman in the hospital because of him. Granted, her shit's all sorts of messed up, but no woman should be a man's punching bag."

"I can't let you in there."

"What would you ask him if I let you in there, Pierce?" Macklin's voice interrupted from the back of the observation room.

"Nothing. He's not our guy."

"And you're sure?" Macklin had already seated himself with a frown on his face. This wasn't ethical and it could get him fired, but he needed Brittany to be the old Brittany - the one that had come to him when he had been a senior detective four years ago. Everyone had been in a panic trying to pin down the killer and his movements. A distraught P.I. had come to him believing that she could help find her friend's killer. No one had wanted to give her a moment to talk or explain. Something about her then and that sincerity had made Macklin take a chance on her. He needed that Brittany again.

Something dark had taken residence inside that sweet innocent girl. That darkness dwelling in her had to be exorcized somehow.

"I'd bet my license on it." Brittany answered without missing a beat.

"That's not the best insurance I've ever been offered. You know how many times I've had to turn away requests for the revocation of your license."

"He's not our guy and you know. You only wanted to bring him in so we could cross him off the suspects list. Unfortunately he's also our only suspect."

"I thought you weren't going to watch the interrogation, chief." Puck butt in.

"This is the highest profile case since the last time the same asshole got away. Do you really think I am not going to be involved in every aspect of this case?" Macklin growled at Puck. The other man quickly ducked and went back to rubbing his head nervously. "Pierce, you get ten minutes to…question our suspect before the cameras go back on. I want whatever shit you're dealing with gone after that ten minutes and legit insurance that you won't go back on your word and fuck this department over again."

Brittany's gaze shifted from Macklin to the man behind the glass.

"Do we understand each other?"

"Perfectly." A cold chill entered the room. Both men shook at the icy edge in her words.

"Good. I don't want to hear anymore on the subject. I know you have other cases and your own work to do. Don't come in tomorrow. Work on the case at home since you have your old files already outside the chain of custody. We need something, Pierce. We need some kind of break in the case. Until then…we are just waiting for the Strangler to kill again. I don't want to have to wait for him to make a mistake. He didn't last time." Macklin stood up and left in the same quiet manner that he had entered the room.

Brittany's eyes closed. Her head gently hit the glass of the mirror. Puck reached out to touch her back. "Britt, you don't have to do this. Mack is trying to get something – anything out of you."

"Give me the files and let me in." She opened her eyes and held out her hand. Reluctantly, he handed them over. Puck didn't like this. Not at all.

"Fine, Britt." He led the way to the interrogation room and knocked calmly on the door. A moment later, the cop opened the door. "The chief wants the P.I. to take over the interrogation. He says nothing personal; in fact, he wants it to get a little more personal. So no one is to disturb us. Shut off the feed on your way out. You've secured the prisoner properly?"

"Of course, detective. Are you sure you don't want me in the room?"

"We'll be fine. Thanks."

"You too, Puck." Brittany nodded to the door.

"I can't leave you by yourself."

"Of course you can. I'll be fine."

"I wasn't worried about you." Puck muttered, his hand was already stroking the top of his head. Something in the way she spoke and the dark circles around Macklin's eyes from before, made him walk away and leave her in the room.

After the door closed, Brittany turned around and gave her suspect the nastiest of grins which he politely returned. "Chester."

"Crazy blonde bitch."

"_As you can see from the way the bruises are here." Dr. Mitchell pointed to the area around the base and underneath Anne Robinson's neck for Santana to observe. "Our killer violently starts his point of attack at the throat. Well, I should clarify; he begins his physical attack at the throat. But his real point of attack is the initiation of a chase. All of the girls, including Ms. Robinson, have brush burns and skid marks on their knees and the palms of their hands indicating a hard fall to the ground or even multiple hard falls."_

"_It's a risky move to start a chase on purpose."_

"Glad to see you remember my name." Brittany tipped her hat back as she circled the desk. Chester still grinned like a ten year-old boy who knew he had been caught. She sat down on the opposite side of him and waited for the red light on the camera to shut off. So blatant was her stare, even Chester turned to follow her eyes. They both looked back at each other when the light went dead.

"Thought you weren't a cop."

"I'm not." It was her turn to smirk.

"Why'd they let you in here? I got nothing to say to you."

"That's fine. I don't need you to talk really." Brittany leaned back in her chair and slowly started to rifle through the file she had extracted from Puck. Satisfied with what she had, Brittany placed picture after picture of the Strangler's victims on the table. One by one, the table filled with bodies of bloodied and dead girls. Chester jumped back in his chair away from the images. Only one remained in the file, Brittany couldn't bring herself to put out the picture of her friend for a piece of shit like Chester. "What's a matter? Not so tough with these women? Because they look only a few drinks and rages away from Brenda."

"Fuck! What the fuck is wrong with you? You're one sick bitch!"

"_I didn't say that he started a chase on purpose. I believe that's a profiler's job to make those sort of conclusions. Based on my work, I can say that they all have these types of injuries antemortem so they are not from moving the body."_

_Santana nodded as she accepted his answer. She wasn't trained for this. The only reason she knew any of this was because of their involvement the last time the killer had struck. She had been perfectly happy helping Brittany catch their neighbor's cat and calling it a case. Or even the one time they had staked out the Laundromat to figure out who was taking clothes. But when Rachel had been killed…they couldn't just sit and do nothing. _

"_Understood. Thank you."_

"_Yes. Shall we continue?" Dr. Mitchell gently placed the girl's arm back down on the table. "Back to the point of attack. We see the bruises around her neck despite the incision marks. These were obviously caused from the attack. The appearance of the bruises here, indicate that the attacker was in front of the victim or on top of her facing her. Unless he closed his eyes, he would be staring right into her eyes as he killed her. We've tried to pull finger prints or anything from the strangulation, but have never gotten a hit. Our killer isn't in our database."_

"_How about running a kit?"_

"_As soon as we worked the scene of the crime, we ran tests for fluids. Like the previous cases, the killer did not rape or sexually touch the victim."_

"I'm a sick bitch? I-Me! I am the sick bitch because I am showing you a few pictures of dead girls?" Brittany pushed the pictures towards him. "How about the woman in the hospital tonight? Don't tell me…she deserved it? Did she run her mouth off? You like to put your hands around her neck. Maybe you went a little too far a few times and decided to cut them too. Is that what you are going to do to Brenda?"

"Whatever. I want out. Let me out of here!" He shouted towards the door, but after no response, he had to look back at Brittany and the pictures on the table. "I didn't do any of that sick shit."

"I know you didn't." Brittany said. She lit up a cigarette and shook her head.

"So why are you in here again?"

"I've had a lot of…problems recently…well, not recently, I've had them for awhile." Brittany tapped the cigarette with a quick flick of her finger. Her other hand removed the hat from her head before she settled it on the table. "And you've had problems as well. Jail. Skipping out on parole. Getting caught by a P.I. and a lawyer and then to top it all off – a car crash. I think we can be beneficial for each other."

If Chester had been confused before, he was completely dumbfounded now. His face scrunched up as he tried to wrap his head around what the blonde was offering. "So you wanna do what with me?"

She finished up her cigarette and dropped it into the ashtray. Her hands gathered up strands of her golden hair to form a high pony tail. "Work out a little tension. That's all."

"_The killer then removes the vocal chords, very carefully with a variety of tools, we have yet to identify. The cuts and marks have varied over time, which suggests that he uses different tools with each of the bodies. It makes it difficult to pin point exactly what he prefers to use."_

"_That's why we can rule out a professional like a doctor or a surgeon?"  
_

"_I would. But once again, I am not the profiler here." Dr. Mitchell stopped talking as he examined the throat closer. Santana hung back staring at the body of the woman. The world could be sick. The medical examiner's words seemed to float in the air. Everything seemed so surreal. How could evil like this exist?_

"_Did you find evidence of a necklace?" Santana finally asked. It had been something they had discovered last time. The Strangler always took a necklace with him as a keepsake. Brittany had noticed the detail that the cops had overlooked four years ago when they didn't find Rachel's gold star around her neck._

"_At first, I didn't think she had been wearing one, but I found a very faded tan line where a thin chain would have hung. You can check with the detective on the scene, but I don't believe a necklace was recovered."_

"_Thank you for your time."_

"_I would say it was a pleasure…" He trailed off._

"_I know, but thank you just the same. Perhaps we could grab a drink or two when this whole mess is over."_

"_I'd be delighted. Do you need me to call someone to escort you out of the building?"_

"_No, that's alright. I need to see an old friend first."_

"_Suit yourself."_

The throbbing pain in her leg had subsided in a dull numbness in the back of her mind. It was a distant thought. Pain did flood throughout her body, but in different places now. Her fist crashed into Chester's jaw once again. It probably hurt her more than it hurt him, but she would never admit it or show it. Blood on her knuckles from his mouth and from a cut on his cheek and some of her own painted her hand. Blonde fly-away pieces of hair stuck out from her once neat pony-tail. She felt alive.

Another punch this time to his gut. The man was reeling, but he kept giving her that bloodied grin. She was determined to make that smirk go away even if it meant he had to lose all his teeth.

* * *

A knock at the door startled Noah Puckerman. His eyes had been watching the developing "interrogation" from the double sided glass. He didn't like it, but it had been Macklin's call. Not that Chester didn't deserve it, he just worried for his friend. He darkened the mirror so the scene taking place in the other room could barely be seen.

He opened the door. "Santana?"

The shorter woman burst through the door and took a quick inventory of the room. She couldn't seen into the interrogation room and there was no one else with Puck. Satisfied, she slammed the door behind her. "Noah Puckerman!"

She started, a finger jabbed hard into the middle of his chest.

"Ouch! What the hell is that for?" Puck rubbed at the area. He had taken a lot of abuse today.

"Don't fuck with me, Puck. Whose idea was it to give her a gun? Doesn't she have to have it registered?"

"I didn't give her a gun." Puck shot back as he realized now why Santana had glared at him in Macklin's office. "It is her gun and it's registered. I can't tell her to not have a gun."

"How can you trust her with it?" Santana blew past him with her hands in the air.

"I don't think that's your call or your concern anymore." He was annoyed at the accusations and her aggressive attack. She stiffened at his words and kept her back turned towards him. Her hands brushed over the darkened glass.

"You should have seen her. She would have shot him…" Santana spoke into the glass. "I just…"

Puck rubbed at his head unsure if he should speak or not. "I know, Tan, but she's not yours to protect anymore. It's okay if you still care about her…"

He trailed off afraid to say anything more. From her silence, Puck knew that it had been enough. Santana sighed against the glass. Her hot breath fogged it and she focused on the way the white of her breath quickly faded against the colder air. Her dark eyes were so focused on the glass; it took her a few seconds to realize there were people in the interrogation room still. Curious, she asked. "Is someone still in there?"

Puck shuffled at the question and nodded slowly. His fingers moved to the switch that would allow her to see inside. He closed his eyes and flicked it on.

* * *

**Thanks again for all the feedback from last chapter! I hope you can continue you give me such awesome responses! **

**Sorry the chapter was about a day late!**

**I went to go see Yes in concert and they were amazing. So for all you 70s music lovers, Yes is touring and it was definitely worth it! The singer was very good as a replacement, but the rest of the band looks like they could fall over dead at any moment, but can still play like daaaaamn. It was killer! So that was my plug for Yes, if you have the opportunity to see them…. DO IT! Famous Yes songs – Roundabout, Owner of a Lonely Heart, America (cover of Simon and Garfunkel's), Heart of the Sunrise, etc. **

**Enough about that! Thanks again! Have a lovely weekend! I hope you are enjoying the rain (if you have it where you are) and the cool breeze. Wooo for storms! **


	6. Chapter 6

**So sorry about the delay! Everyone who has been reading my stuff knows I don't like to be late posting and I normally don't post late! Sorry! I could give you a litany of reasons why, but the list is long! The important thing is that I am still VERY dedicated to **_**Sirens**_**. In fact, that's half the reason I was so late with posting. I couldn't stop writing pieces of the story. Unfortunately, none of them were for this chapter; therefore, I continued to put off finishing this chapter. **

**But I'm back! And I now present the next installment of…**

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 6**

Puck rubbed at his right cheek where Santana had slapped him on her way out of the observation room. He didn't think he deserved it in one way, but in another, it verified the sick feeling in his stomach when Brittany had told him to leave the interrogation room. His own dark eyes cruised towards the double sided glass unsure where the next few minutes would lead. He knew they couldn't be good. The fire burning in the Latina's eyes had been blistering and terrifying. Puck felt fortunate to have survived the encounter with only a smarting cheek.

He didn't want to stick around to see the oncoming confrontation. But he couldn't muster the strength to walk away. Mechanically, he walked towards the mirror in the room where he could clearly see Brittany taking all sorts of liberties with her suspect. His eyes kept glancing from Brittany's fists to the door waiting for it to burst open. Despite the blood being spilled and the laughter echoing in the next room, a strange feeling swirled about the room. The calm before the storm – that eerie, uncanny unease that settled before the crash - grew thick in the room.

* * *

"_They closed it, Britt." Santana mumbled as she looked up from her stack of papers. The apartment looked as if it had survived a shipwreck – just barely. They had both been avoiding the inevitable and the heartache that would come with prolonged exposure to each other. Almond eyes caught the light of the door as it opened and then swiftly faded back into darkness. The only light in the apartment came from her small desk light at the kitchen table. "Did you hear me?"_

_The silhouette in the room shuffled awkwardly at their apartment door, but didn't respond. Even with the faint light, Santana could still see Brittany's eyes in the darkness. After spending so many years together, they could read each other with only a look. But in the past few weeks, it had become increasingly harder. Now, Santana didn't know if her girlfriend was listening to her, much less, processing the meaning of her words. _

"_Brittany!" Santana raised her voice desperate for a response. She stood and flicked on the ceiling light. "Didn't you hear me? They closed it! The case is being filed under unsolved and their calling it a cold case! Puck just called me!"_

_With the blinding light on, Brittany shrunk back trying to cover her eyes. But it wasn't in time. Santana took a step forward. _

"_Are you drunk?"_

"_Fuck off." Brittany uncharacteristically snarled. "Puck already told me."_

"_And what? You decided to go get hammered over it? Are you celebrating?"_

"_Celebrating?!" Brittany's mouth opened in indignation. "They are stopping efforts to find Rachel's killer and you think I'm celebrating?"_

"_Why the fuck are you drunk?" Santana growled angry._

"_Why the fuck aren't you? They are saying job well done and trying to rationalize it! They are even spreading a rumor through the media that they got the guy, but since they can't pin anything on him connected to the murders, they are getting him with some other charges to take the killer off the street."_

"_What are you talking about?" Santana asked, now completely confused._

"_Since they've thrown that piece of shit, Chester, in jail the killings have stopped and so they are speeding up his trial, you know, to get him thrown away as quickly as possible. Then they can blame the killings on him and pray that they stay stopped."_

"_Why would they do that?" Santana's face dropped. Her anger at Brittany quickly transferred to the police._

"_Because they have no new leads. No new nothing! They have nothing on the killer and since the killings stopped they can't do anything else except hope they don't start up again!"_

"_It's not Chester."_

"_I know that! You know that! Even the fucking police and media know it, but with him away for a few years, they can forget all about these murders and go on living."_

"_Shit." Santana let everything hit her. She took a step back as the full weight took its toll. It felt like they had been searching and working with the police for years. And now it was supposed to be over? It didn't seem right. After everything thing they had done to try and catch the killer, they were going to lock Chester up on some beefed up charges and call it a day. Her stomach turned at the thought. A second passed and she allowed herself to think of Rachel. No, not Rachel. Rachel had been turned into some abstract figure; some memory that could only be accessed from the past. The Rachel she thought of now was the one on the ground dead. At the time, she had wanted to see the picture to know what the Strangler had done to her. Now, in hindsight, she knew it had been a mistake. It was an image that would never fade. Her voice lowered with her thoughts and her words stuck. "So it's over then?"_

_She looked up into those bright blue eyes hoping for some sort of guidance – some finality. But she didn't expect this look – the rage in her girlfriend's eyes was startling. _

"_This isn't over. Her killer's still out there."_

"_But Brittany –"_

"_There aren't any buts, Santana! There can't be! I'm not stopping until he's found and pays for what he did."_

_Now defensive, Santana took a step forward. "I understand that we can keep looking, but, Brittany, there hasn't been anything in weeks! How are we supposed to find him? We can't keep doing this! Look at us! We're living like the dead!"_

"_We're fine." _

"_How can you say that?! Look at this place!" Santana pointed to the apartment. Nothing seemed right or straight – mess and clutter scattered about. "You look like you haven't slept in days and I know you haven't because you haven't been sleeping here! The circles under your eyes make you look like a corpse yourself! The Strangler may have killed her, but now he's killing us both!"_

"_What!? So I'm supposed to forget about her and walk away? I should just forget about the world and throw myself into my work like you!? I should pick up a book and bury my head in it? At least I'm trying to do something! You've retreated into your own world of studying and the law and completely forgotten about everything and everyone else! Since we almost caught the asshole who killed her, you've disappeared on me! You haven't followed a lead since then! I've been doing everything looking for her killer while you've stayed here reading your books and refusing to leave the apartment except for class!"_

"_I didn't give up! I've just faced reality and I know when I have to move on!"_

"_Move on? You haven't even said Rachel's name since she was killed! No amount of avoidance or repression or homework or cases or law school is going to shove enough dirt over her body to make you forget, Santana. You can't keep avoiding her death forever!"_

"_And you can't keep wearing her body like a wounded animal hoping to attract the same predator that killed her by killing yourself!" Santana was stunned by her own words as they spewed from her lips. But it was too late to take them back._

_Brittany took a step back now. Hurt mirrored in her eyes as her mouth opened, but she couldn't quite get the words out. Finally she managed to whisper laced with venom and pain. "How dare you? How can you say that? Maybe you're right and we're not fine."_

"_Brittany…" Santana's voiced softened as she tried to plead with her. But Brittany had already turned back to the door. The blonde opened it dejectedly. "Britt, where are you going? Please come back. Where are you going?"_

_She didn't look back as she walked out of the door. "I'm going to follow a lead."_

* * *

Brittany threw one more punch towards Chester and he finally faltered. Blood dripped from the side of his mouth as he barked in laughter. She was laughing with him now. She lifted her arm once more and prepared herself for another swig.

The asshole could barely open his eyes to see now and it reminded Brittany of the way Brenda had looked four years ago when she had finally decided to flip on him. Good. The fucker deserved it. His laughter was driving her insane. Filled with disgust, frustration, and at the same time, an odd sense of relief, Britt opened her mouth and joined her hysterical laughter to his. Catharsis. Perhaps this would be her tragic release. Yet something deeply disturbing and dark echoed from the unfathomable reaches inside her and knew this moment would never give her the comfort she sought. But she couldn't stop – wouldn't stop.

A red splotch of blood hit the floor at her feet. "This turn you on, bitch?"

Chester muttered through a broken jaw barely able to get the words out. But Brittany didn't have to understand them all to know he was trying to bait her some more. She ignored him and sent another punch to his gut.

"Aren't you the dyke? Still with that tight piece of ass? I saw the way you looked at her in the car. Bitch ain't giving it to you anymore? Sometimes you gotta be a little rough with cunts like that if you want to get some of that pussy." Chester again barked in laughter. That set off a nerve; Brittany turned into her punch even harder this time without any remorse. She wanted him to feel the full weight of his words. He wasn't laughing anymore. Brittany would have been surprised to find out she still had the ability to perform such a simple and unabashed thing as laughing.

She heard a noise somewhere else in the room, but she ignored it. Normally bright blue eyes had turned dark. With a raised fist, Brittany braced herself to meet flesh and flesh again. But she felt another presence suddenly in the room. Her body tensed. The hair on the back of her neck stood straight up. And her nostrils flared as she smelled a scent which brought both comfort and discontent. In this case, she felt hostile and angry at the intrusion. She whipped around.

* * *

"_Look, one of you needs to pick up the goddamn phone for more than just leads on the Strangler. Please, just give me a call. I am heading back to Lima for a memorial ceremony. I think it would be good for you guys to attend. Everyone's coming back for it. Please just give me a call; you know my number…" Puck's voice cut out of the answering machine, but Santana didn't have the energy to pick up the receiver or even to acknowledge the voice. Her eyes were focused intently on the books in front of her. The only thought that could penetrate her dedication to memorizing her law book by the end of the week was one of the blonde haired, blue-eyed woman. The same woman she shared her apartment with. _

_It had been two days since they had seen each other. Two days since they had gotten into an incredible fight. At the time, it had felt like the world had been shaking and Armageddon had surely come to rock the earth into oblivion. Now, it felt as if the aftermath was much, much worse. The dead silence. The absolute knowledge that neither of them had won the argument and neither of them could ever possibly win. _

_With as much stubbornness as the woman could muster, Santana tried to defy the need to think about her girlfriend. But even the obstinate Santana couldn't resist letting her mind wander. Brittany could be hurt or dead somewhere in New York and she would never know. No matter how bad it got between them, and it had been bad since Rachel's murder, Santana would never stop caring about her lover. _

_With great reluctance, she lifted her cell phone and texted: B, we need to talk. Meet me at the Nymph's Lounge tmw nite. _

_Santana dropped her phone to her lap and leaned back away from her notes and books spread out on their kitchen table. She wanted to feel relief, but her stomach couldn't stop turning knots. Brittany had to show up. The blonde had never missed one of Santana's mic nights. The brunette wasn't a regular, but when she decided to throw her name on the sign-up sheet at the bar, the place always seemed to hold its breath. It had been awhile since she had last visited. In fact, Santana hadn't gone to sing since Rachel's death. Occasionally, the diva herself would show up to sing a duet with Santana. So Santana had avoided the place. She didn't need to be reminded of her friend's death. _

_But she needed something. She needed to release all the pain welling up inside. Maybe Brittany had been right._

_Lord knew she wasn't perfect. Santana had never been good with emotions and the death of Rachel had been particularly difficult. The guilt, helplessness, and now the hopelessness were overwhelming. And she couldn't express it. It was too much. Brittany couldn't help. Instead of attempting to confront her feelings, Santana had thrown herself completely into her work. Her life revolved around studying, exams, and more work than she could possibly handle in a twenty-four hour day. _

_Brittany had done the same. The blonde received more leads than the police on a daily basis. Unlike the police, she was determined to track them all down. Even if they weren't remotely good. _

_They were grieving in the worst way possible. _

_Alone._

_Santana closed her book and looked back at her phone. Still no response. She wasn't surprised. But Britt had never missed a performance before. Hesitantly, Santana glanced to Brittany's work space in their apartment. No, she hadn't seen her girlfriend in two days, but she continued to see evidence of the blonde's comings and goings. Since Rachel's murder, Brittany had recreated her private investigating office in the living room of their apartment. Apparently, she wanted her work__space close in case she thought of something pertinent or received a lead at home. Pictures of bodies, notes, and maps of where the Strangler had killed and left bodies were all tacked in some thriller movie fashion to the wall. In the past few days, more pieces of paper had appeared on the wall even if there had been no sightings of Brittany herself. _

_Her eyes lingered on the black book planner that Brittany had lying on the coffee table. It was the second most important book in Britt's investigation. The first was, of course, her main notes on suspects, observations, and interviews. This book, sitting so brazenly on the table, contained appointments, schedules, and which of her suspects she was planning to stalk that particular day. Occasionally, it held dates for cases unrelated to the Strangler, but now that was rare. _

_Santana resisted the urge to pick it up and read where Brittany would be today. _

_Three days ago, the police department had officially deemed the Strangler case cold. No new bodies, no new leads, no new information, no new anything except the reality that their lives had been turned upside down and inside out. _

_Now what did they have to live for?_

"_Fuck…" Santana muttered. She shuffled around the papers in front of her. One of her books opened up. The ink seemed incredibly dark in contrast to the stark white paper. _

_There was a lot to live for… it just wasn't going to be here in New York. _

_The internship out in California had always been a distant opportunity; one Santana had applied for just for the experience of interviewing, not for the actual job. She had yet to complete her schooling and it would require a major change of life and relocation. At the time when she had applied, Santana had only expected a courtesy rejection letter back. Even when she had attained an interview with a partner who was overseeing a case in New York, Santana had joked that it was because they wanted to meet such a hot lesbian out east. Brittany had instantly agreed and they forgot about the job. _

_A week ago, the letter arrived stating that they wanted to offer to pay for the rest of her schooling out in California so she would be licensed to practice out west with their firm. Apparently their senior partner was retiring and looking to partake in some philanthropic interests, like sponsoring the education of a hopeful and promising applicant. Santana had been chosen. Unable to believe the opportunity and the absolute shock, caused her to shove the letter into her book. Rachel's killer was still out there and they hadn't yet given up hope of finding the bastard. _

_Brittany would never leave with him on the loose. Guilt froze her a week ago when the letter first arrived. But she felt more guilt three days ago when they declared the Strangler a cold case because it would give her an opportunity to leave New York. Anger had consumed her two days ago when Brittany had stormed out the door to chase down another fruitless lead. Santana had yelled, screamed, and begged Brittany to let the dead rest__in peace. _

_Brittany had answered there could be no peace until Rachel's killer's was caught. Santana felt her stomach tighten at the memory of Brittany's words: "No amount of avoidance or repression or homework or cases is going to shove enough dirt over her body to make you forget, Santana. You can't keep avoiding her death forever!"_

"_And you can't keep wearing her body like a wounded animal hoping to attract the same predator that killed her by killing yourself!"_

_Brittany walked out._

_Two days ago, Santana had been full of fear after their fight. Fear that if she stayed, she would never forgive herself for Rachel's death. Fear that Brittany would kill herself trying to catch the killer. Fear that she would leave New York alone. _

* * *

_Brittany had looked at her phone the moment she had received the text from Santana. Her fingers ghosted over the keys for a moment as she decided whether to respond or not. But right as she was about to type her reply, the door to the house she had been watching opened. The phone dropped useless and unused to her lap as she readjusted her binoculars. They weren't anything fancy. Santana had given them to her as a gift their senior year of high school when Brittany had just started her investigating gig at McKinley. One hand still on the binoculars held them steady while her other hand quickly scribbled down notes on a pad of paper._

_She had been staking out the park for the past two days on an anonymous tip that some unfamiliar man recently started circling around its perimeter. It had taken her some reconnaissance work, but Britt had worked her field of suspicious persons to this particular man. So far he hadn't exhibited any behavior to raise red flags expect for an unusual habit of walking around the park from the hours of two to four in the morning. At times, he would stop and look towards a house or take a piss in a bush, but he wasn't following anyone or creating a hostile environment. But it was the only decent lead Brittany had gotten this week and she didn't want to give it up. _

_He didn't look like someone who would have the ability to track a woman down and strangle her. But then again, most people didn't look like serial killers. The man threw a bag of trash into the can on the street curb and went back inside his house. _

_As much as Brittany hated to admit when she hit a dead end, she felt like this would lead nowhere once again. Drawn to the phone, Brittany reverently placed the binoculars down next to her. Even if Santana wasn't here, Brittany couldn't forget who had been the first person to encourage her private investigating business. Back then, in high school everything had been so simple. They were going to conquer the world. Maybe they still could. _

_Brittany gathered her equipment up. Something in her gut said this wasn't the guy and something much deeper said that Santana was still the most important thing in her life. But she couldn't go home. Not yet, she crawled back into the backseat of her car and attempted to get some sleep. _

_In the morning, Brittany woke up and took a few more notes on her suspect before she began the drive back to her apartment. When she arrived at the apartment, Santana had already left for class__**.**__ Brittany began the methodical process of exchanging information from the field to her wall in the living room. Notes from the stake out were copied into shorthand connecting places and people with no conclusions._

_With a frown, she finally stood back to soak in the great mess of nothing on the wall. All the leads, pictures, suspects. They helped her to conclude nothing. Maybe Santana was right and she couldn't keep going at this pace. She really hadn't been sleeping except when exhaustion forced her to close her eyes during stakeouts. They hadn't made any real progress, not in any significant way. _

_San would be at class right now. No doubt she was making her way to the top of her classmates. Her eyes lingered on the only book Santana had left. It was unusual, but not something that would normally cause her pause. What did catch the blonde's attention happened to be an occurrence which never happened. Santana never kept her paperwork in her books. The Latina maintained an accurate and precise filing system. An errant paper irked her. _

_Brittany walked across the apartment and picked the paper from between the book. It was thicker than copy paper as it was written on a__letter head. The address was from California. Brittany had to read it about a hundred times before it finally sunk in. Santana could leave for the west coast. The date was from last week, yet she hadn't mentioned it. Brittany sat down unable to stand anymore. It felt like the weight of the world would crush her. _

_They weren't okay. _

_Yet Santana held back from telling Brittany the news. She probably feared that Brittany wouldn't leave New York without solving Rachel's murder. _

"_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Brittany turned the paper over and over in her hands before she violently shoved it back into the book. _

* * *

_The Nymph's Lounge had originally catered to a certain type of crowd - one that didn't enjoy making friends. But legend had it that the owner thought it would be funny to open the bar up for an open mic in order to attract the opposite sex to frequent the bar in honor of the bar's name. After that fateful day, the mic nights became pretty popular. Singing had never been Brittany's forte, but she loved to hear her girlfriend's voice. So when Rachel had invited them out for a night of singing, Brittany had declined, but had encouraged Santana to sing with their high school friend. The three of them would come to the bar – Rachel and Santana would eventually steal the night while Brittany enjoyed an evening of her girlfriend soaking in the attention of a crowd. It had been perfect._

_The air didn't hold the same magical quality it used to have. Brittany felt out of place. She selected a seat in the dark corner where she knew Santana wouldn't be able to pick her out from the crowd. She wore a brimmed hat low over her brow to give herself even more protection from those brown eyes which would most assuredly be scanning for her. Unable to forget about the paper from Santana's books, Brittany tried hard to rationalize with reality._

_Santana would leave her._

_No, she would stay. They would never leave each other. _

_Would she ask Brittany to come with her?_

_Why hadn't she told her about the opportunity?_

_Even scarier, would she leave if Santana asked?_

_Yes. Brittany kept saying the answer over and over again in her head. Yes, she would go with Santana. The lights dimmed even further as the owner of the bar took to the mic and welcomed everyone. He introduced the first singer. It was someone Brittany recognized, but didn't care about. He finished his song selection and bowed to the crowd. Brittany kept saying yes – over and over again in her head. _

"_And now I present a personal favorite back to the stage, we most certainly missed her – her stage name at Nymph's is Songbird."_

_Brittany's heart jumped at Santana's stage name. Her fingers danced around the rim of her glass as she focused on the woman taking the stage. Britt wanted to cheer for her like she usually did, but something kept her riveted to her hiding place. Santana seemed different. Normally, Santana took the stage like she was the queen of music with confidence and that brilliant smile. Instead, her girlfriend took her time and didn't banter with the crowd as she usually did. Her dark eyes scanned the room harder than usual and lingered on the chairs closest to the stage where Brittany would have normally been sitting. _

_Finally she took the stool and settled in front of the microphone. She took a long breath with her eyes closed. Brittany knew then that she was deciding something and once again, the blonde struggled internally, but couldn't move. _

"_I was going to sing this song to my heart, but she's not here and I'm not sure where she is or if my heart and my girlfriend are even in the same place anymore…" Santana spoke into the darkness now with no focus. Brittany's chest fell at the words, but she remained motionless. "I'll have to sing something else, but I guess in a way, it's also dedicated to her."_

_The guitar chords started easy and low. Her voice broke above the crowd solemn and full of feeling. _

"_I hope my smile can distract you. I hope my fist can fight for too - so it never has to show and you'll never know."_

"_I hope my love can blind you. I hope my arms can bind you - so you'll never have to see what we've grown to be."_

"_One may think we're alright, but we need pills to sleep at night. We need lies to make it through the day; we're not okay. Oooh Ooooh Oooo."_

"_One may think we're alright, but we need pills to sleep at night. We need lies to make it through the day."_

"_We're not okay."_

"_One may think we're doing fine. But if I had to lay it on the line, we're losing ground with every passing day."_

"_We're not okay." Santana's eyes shot open at the line. It felt, despite that it was impossible, that she could penetrate the darkness and see right through Brittany. The blonde felt her heart stop at those eyes piercing through the darkness._

"_But that's one thing I would never - one thing I would never - one thing I would never say to you. That's one thing I would never- one thing I would never – one thing I would never say to you."_

_The song ended in the same somber fashion it started. The lights blinked, but no one clapped. Santana stood and walked down the stage. Her dark eyes were already so far away. Brittany shoved her hat further down her head as she reached up to wipe away the tears rolling down her face._

_Who was she kidding?_

_She would never leave New York or the murder. But Santana needed to. _

_Fuck. She felt like her heart had been split in half. Brittany needed some time to think. She didn't want to let go. Her whole world felt like it was shattering all over again. Brittany didn't wait for Santana to join the crowd. The blonde stood up and exited._

_The words from the song kept echoing in her head: "We're not okay."_

* * *

_Santana struggled for the strength to realize the obvious – Brittany hadn't come. She woke up the next morning once again alone. Figures. Another day they would spend apart. Her eyes drifted towards the empty side of the bed and imagined the blonde head that used to rest on the pillow. The best days they had would start with Brittany refusing to leave the sheets. She used to puff them up in the air and duck beneath them before dragging Santana with her. They would giggle and fool around for hours. Santana would skip a study session and Britt would text Mike to take over her class at the dance studio. _

_It had to end. _

_All things had to end. _

_Santana stood up and began furiously throwing clothes into her suitcase. _

* * *

Santana stood at the doorway of the interrogation room. Her chocolate eyes unflinching held the blonde's gaze. The air between them sizzled and cracked with energy. Even Chester kept his mouth shut, not that he could have mustered much more from his broken body to even instigate Brittany at the arrival of her ex-lover.

"Don't stop on account of me. Do you want me to get Puck's gun so you can do a better job?" Santana's voice was dangerous as if daring Brittany to say yes. "Or should I figure out where you're keeping your gun and get it for you?"

Brittany's fist didn't drop, but remained poised above Chester. "Get the fuck out, Santana."

"Why?" Santana took another step inside the room.

"I'm interrogating my suspect."

"Yeah? So you really think he's our killer. Once you beat the shit out of him, the killings will stop?" Santana glanced to the glass window where she knew Puck would be watching. Despite the rather forceful slap she delivered to his cheek, Santana was confident that he would be there waiting for a signal. She nodded her head once.

"It's not that simple."

Chester mumbled something from his rather vulnerable position right as the door opened once more. Puck stood there with another officer. Their mutual friend couldn't meet Brittany's eyes. He pointed Chester out to the other police officer, who obviously didn't understand the scope of the confrontation. Approaching the tied up suspect, he couldn't help but open his mouth. "What the fuck happened to him?"

"Nothing, officer, he was in a car crash today. Make sure you take him down to medical and then back into booking. I have a feeling his parole officer will be very happy to see him." Puck answered before either of the women could respond.

Brittany's bright blue eyes flickered from the doorway to Chester to Puck and finally to Santana with anger and disbelief. "Don't you fucking touch him. I'm not finished with him."

The other officer hesitated for a moment as if he finally realized that it wasn't an orthodox interrogation. Puck gave him another nod as if to say ignore the crazy woman. Again the officer attempted to cross the room towards Chester. Brittany stepped up to impede his progress. "Don't."

"Move, Brittany." Santana finally stepped up. Their eyes were still locked. "Take him."

Now Santana was giving orders and the young man decided to just go for it. He approached the chair and began to uncuff Chester. Brittany finally broke their stare and started to approach Chester. Santana didn't give her time to do whatever she wanted to do to either Chester or to the police officer. She sprang from the doorway and threw herself at Brittany. They collided hard. The impact sent them both to the floor with an audible thud.

"Get him out of here!" Puck yelled as he struggled to help lift Chester up. He turned for a brief moment to see the two women tussling on the floor. He debated if he needed to stick around to continue "helping", but he didn't want to lose an eye or an arm or anything vital.

"Detective, should I get someone else in here?"

"No, they're fine." Puck said with confidence even if he had none. Without allowing the other man to protest, Puck shut the door behind them as they dragged Chester away.

Brittany attempted to make one desperate lunge towards the door and Chester, but felt herself snagged back down to the floor. "Get off!"

"Stop it! Don't you see yourself? Look at you!"

The blonde twisted around and pushed at the other woman on the floor. She heard the Latina make something of a grunt before she felt hands grabbing at her hair. They crashed back down to the floor and started to roll. They narrowly avoided the chair but Brittany slammed Santana's back into the leg of the table.

"Ouch! Fucking bitch! You can't keep doing this, Brittany! You can't keep this up!" Santana reacted and pulled at Brittany's shirt. She yanked at it till their faces were only a few centimeters apart underneath the interrogation room table. Panting hard and so close, it was hard for either of them not to realize they were exchanging heated breathe in large amounts. Their tense bodies struggled for only a moment before Santana exerted her superior body position, on top, and forced Brittany to stop trying to break free. Unbeknownst to either woman, Santana had effectively pinned Britt's right hand above her head while Brittany had grasped onto Santana's other hand.

Neither of them spoke, but continued to remain still. Santana could feel every breath Brittany took. Every time their chests would press against each other. Their eyes remained locked as their bodies made the slightest adjustments. Every half centimeter inched in any direction felt like they were trying to move a mountain. So close yet so different, Santana couldn't take it anymore. A muttered "fuck" broke from her lips. She rolled to the side so they were lying next to each other. She wasn't ready to be that close to Brittany.

"What are we doing?" Her dark eyes closed.

"You were attacking me." Brittany answered with a snort as she rolled her eyes and shifted to make space for Santana next to her. The blonde could feel every muscle in her body and every place where Santana's body had been touching hers during their scuffle. Her bright blue eyes looked up to the underside of the table as she tried to keep it together. Despite speaking, Brittany felt her whole body constrict. In her hand, Santana's hand remained. Brittany feared that if she moved or spoke too much that Santana would break all physical contact with her.

Santana shook her head at the response. The silence settled back between them. She was sure they looked ridiculous. She knew remnants of Brenda and Chester's lunch still clung to her hair and her heels had been ruined. Brittany's shirt had been stretched during the struggle a moment ago and her hair had been pulled out. "Were you going to keep hitting him?"

Brittany didn't like that Santana had broken their silence to go back to the issue at hand. Squirming, she attempted to move away from Santana and leave from under the table. But something stopped her from getting up. Santana's hand squeezed her hand hard and pulled her back. The brunette opened her eyes and turned towards her ex-lover. Their eyes met once again and Brittany knew that Santana wouldn't let her just leave and avoid the question. Struggling for words, Brittany tried to summon her uncaring badass side. The side she had been using for the past four years to deal with the world. But here, forgotten, in an abandon room underneath layers of past, layers of words, layers of love, layers of hurt, and the layers in those dark eyes, Brittany couldn't muster her signature nonchalant apathy. Her words stumbled from her mouth. "Yes until- yes…no. I don't know."

Again she tried to look away, but Santana's free hand reached out and pulled her back by cupping her chin gently. Reluctant to meet those eyes which could see right through her, Brittany half-heartedly struggled against Santana. Now staring straight into each other's eyes, they both lost the words they had planned to say.

But Brittany broke the tension between them this time. "Why'd you come back?"

It was Santana's turn to shift uncomfortably at a question. She didn't attempt to move away like Brittany had, but she did turn her head away. Her eyes shot up to the table again. There were a few pieces of old chewing gum and some nail marks that someone had carved into the finish.

Brittany wouldn't allow her to avoid the question either. She needed the answer. She needed something final and stable – something solid from Santana so she knew where they stood with each other. One deep breath. Her heart was racing – she wanted to take the risk. Slowly she slid her fingers, one by one, in between Santana's. The brushing of skin against skin was enough to remind her of all the times they had spent exploring every recess, curve, blemish, and area of each other's bodies.

To her surprise, Santana didn't pull away. "Unfinished business."

It wasn't enough. "Because of the Strangler?"

Santana didn't respond right away.

"And other things…"

Brittany's heart jumped at the words and the way Santana's hand squeezed hers. She didn't want to push it any further. Her head lowered back down to the floor and she joined Santana as they looked up into the constellations of chewed gun, gang symbols, nail marks, and dark spots that made up the skyline of the underside of the interrogation table. At one time in their lives, they would have spent a night gazing at the actual night sky and slept under the stars. But at this moment, Brittany couldn't have asked for anything more than their cheap version.

They still had so much to talk about – so many things left unsaid and too many things said in anger the last time they had seen each other. For right now, Brittany wanted to forget everything and savor this moment. Underneath this desk they were still best friends – they were still part of each other's lives. Their breathing slowed and Britt's heart began to beat normally. Eventually Santana shifted as if waking herself from a deep sleep. She started and her hand disconnected with Brittany. The moment caused the blonde to shift from her comfortable position and place weight on her leg. Unconsciously, she winced.

"Are you okay?" Santana asked. Her abs easily held her suspended over the blonde to look down into her eyes.

"Yeah, I just hurt myself during that chase."

"Your leg, right?" Santana finished the thought.

"Yeah."

"Let me look at it." Santana rolled out from the table and stood up. She brushed herself off from the floor, but it did little to change the fact that she looked a mess. Brittany struggled to roll with the same grace which Santana had just displayed, but after all the adrenaline and excitement from the day, her body needed to relax. The few minutes she had spent lying with Santana had done her in. She swayed and grasped onto the edge of the table for support. Dark eyes looked upon the scene with a mix of emotions. "You're a fucking mess, B."

* * *

"Ow. Ow. Ouch!" Brittany growled as Dr. Mitchell dabbed at her knuckles with disinfectant.

"It's supposed to hurt." He responded laconically. "These are some bad cuts. Whoever you got into a fight with must have taken the worst of it."

"You could say that…" Brittany muttered in response. She was seated on one of the tables Dr. Mitchell used to examine bodies. Santana had insisted that they go to him instead of the medic. Something about trusting the medical examiner as opposed to anyone who would report back to Macklin.

"Well you've got a bad bruise on your leg, but it's nothing that shouldn't heal with time and rest. I would ice it a few times a day for twenty minutes. Continue to put clean bandages on your hands to avoid infection and you should be fine." He glanced to the clock on the wall. "Unfortunately, I have to meet with my lieutenant, but you can see yourselves out. It was nice to see you, Miss Pierce."

"Likewise."

He walked out of the room leaving the two women once again alone. Santana took a few steps forward and took Brittany's right hand into hers. Gently she stroked at the bandages without looking up.

"So, what does this mean about us?" Brittany finally asked the question that had been burning inside of her since the interrogation room.

"What about us, Britt?" Santana asked, her eyes unnaturally focusing on Britt's hand in hers. "We have a job to do here and a lot of stuff that needs to be worked out. I-I'm not ready to go back to anything we were. I'm not that person anymore and obviously you aren't either. It's in the past. But…"

Ah yes, reality was a bitch once it decided to rear its ugly head. The blonde remembered all the pain that came with Santana. Brittany choked up at Santana's words and restrained herself from covering the Latina's lips so she wouldn't be able to finish her thought. "But what?"

"Maybe we can be something else…"

"You don't mean that…"

"It's been a long time, Brittany. I came back here first for Rachel and second for…other things…There's still so much we have to talk about and the way I left and all the anger-"

All the stress from the day and the tumultuous emotions took their toll. Brittany didn't want to hear anything else. She lunged forward. Her lips sought Santana's. It had been so long, but they were so close now. Brittany could practically taste her mouth.

But her lips met with an open palm. She pulled back in surprise.

A single word. "No."

Brittany felt like such a fucking idiot. She brushed away Santana's hand and the word offered with it. What had she been thinking? Clearly the whole day had just been too much. Why would she expect anything different from the woman who had just walked away without even talking about it?

"Whatever." Brittany used the same word and attitude that Santana had constantly used during high school. She attempted to hop off the table and head for the door. Fuck her.

But the brunette beat her to it.

Santana did what Santana did best – she walked out.

* * *

**Happy Olympics! I'm a total sucker for them. So there might be another slight delay in posting. Volleyball is my sport so I'm glued to the tv every chance I get! **

**Hopefully I can get some feedback from this chapter. I wanted to give you guys some more flashbacks since you responded so well to the last one! Thanks and have a lovely rest of the week! Don't worry things will get better for our duo! :D**

**Also in the time I have been not posting this chapter (sorry again), I did post a one-shot titled **_**Playtime in Gotham**_**. It was a lot of fun to write Brittana in glee club again. So definitely check it out!**

**Song- Pills by The Perishers**


	7. Chapter 7

**These comments and reviews are incredible and inspiring! I even got to talk to a few of you on tumblr! :D Please keep** **'em coming! It's humbling to know so many people are involved in my story. I couldn't stop smiling all week! **

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 7**

"_Welcome to this week's edition of Fondue for Two: Lawyer and the Sleuth!" The blue dot next to the camera on her laptop blinked to life. The blonde swung around in her chair, kicking her feet in the air. In the background of the scene, a rather fat cat sat on a coffee table looking none too happy about being featured in Brittany's weekly web blog. But like all things, LT sat patiently waiting to be used as a prop. His sharp feline eyes flickered from side to side as if plotting. Did the blonde notice? Of course not, she was too occupied with filming. _

"_When I last posted, we had just found the apartment and Santana had finished her final interview for the pre-law program. As you can see, the apartment looks awesome!" Brittany scooted her computer chair to the side to show the inside of their dwelling. It already looked as if the two had been living together for months instead of two weeks. Pictures hung on the wall – some from cheerleading competitions, others from their nationals win with the glee club, even a few featured their friends from high school. Brittany, it seemed, had gone through a stack of family sized variety pack of construction paper. Hanging down everywhere were cut outs of people and animals in all the colors dangling from the ceiling. Lord Tubbington had a set-up in the corner of the living room next to the television set complete with a sleeping area and one of those things cats liked to crawl up. Santana had joked about buying him one since she had never seen the large cat climb anything except a tub of processed cheese once. _

_In the far back of the camera's angle, if one looked close enough, they could see a figure moving around in what looked to be the kitchen. _

"_Not only that, but San was accepted into the program so that's why we changed the name of the show to the Lawyer and the Sleuth also I thought it sounded better than Fondue for Two: Soon to be Lawyer and Unemployed Job Searching High School Grads!"_

"_Thank God you changed it. It was horrible listening to her trying to rhyme all those words into a song for the past two weeks." Santana's voice added from the background. The sound of pans and cooking could be heard as the living room and the kitchen were practically the same room. _

"_She doesn't mean that." Brittany smiled into the cam ignoring Santana's obnoxious banging of the pots and pans behind her. _

"_Yes, I do!" Santana shouted back._

"_Anyways, like I was saying, we are rocking New York like bosses. We even found a place where I think I could definitely open up a dance studio with the money Allie saved from our parents in the trust fund for me." Brittany beamed while waving at the camera. "Love you and miss you, sister!"_

"_Allie knows! Get on with it! You don't have to do individual shout outs for everyone, B!"_

"_Thanks for reminding me!" Britt shouted back. "I'd like to thank all my regular viewers – all twenty four of them for subscribing to my blog."_

"_They're all your friends and your sister, B! It's not like they are going to unfollow you!"_

_Once again, Britt mostly ignored Santana's side comments and continued talking right into the camera. She leaned in to whisper. "What San means, is that she misses and loves all of you. I think she especially misses seeing you guys every day and hanging out. But I don't think she wants to admit it and definitely not on camera."_

"_What are you saying over there?"_

_Brittany started to giggle into the camera. For a moment it seemed the brunette in the kitchen was about to pounce over the counter and onto Britt from behind, but the Latina eventually relaxed and continued cooking. Britt let out a soft sigh, almost disappointed that her girlfriend wasn't going to jump her on camera. _

"_Okay let's get back on track! As I was saying, San is going to be rocking the law world while I have my heart set on this studio. Obviously I will be looking for instructors. Maybe a little Chang to spice the place up. That would be you, Mike." Brittany gave the computer a wink. "Of course, everyone's invited to come to help teach except for you, Finn. You can watch or I will give you free dancing lessons cause you really do need help. I might even name a class after you like 'Hopelessly Finning Around'. It will be for lost causes really, because I know that you can't be the only worst dancer around so maybe it will attract a few people!" Again she trailed off and shook her head as if rethinking her last statement. "Maybe that isn't such a good idea after all… I'll have to give it further thought because that would be a lot of Finn in one place."_

_A snort could be heard from the kitchen. Santana stirred the veggies in the pan, with only half of her concentration. The other half was solely on her girlfriend and that ridiculous video show she posted online every week. Britt could barely open up Microsoft Word or turn on her laptop, but for some reason she had developed quite a knack for editing and putting together videos and music playlists. _

"_In other news, and it's really exciting… Santana and I have already cracked and completed our first case here in the big city! It's only been like two weeks and LT: P-EYE is already in business!"_

"_She's only saying that-"_

_"Shhh! Sanny! You're going to ruin my dramatis personas!" Britt cut her off._

_Santana's mouth quirked to the side and her one eyebrow dropped. "Is that like some kind of Harry Potter spell?"_

_"No, I think it means how epic you tell a story."_

_"I definitely don't think it means that." Santana's voice teased from behind playfully._

_"Well whatever it is, I am going to tell everyone how awesome we are and why we already have a second case." Brittany tossed a sock that had been lying on the floor towards the kitchen. Santana easily caught it and stuck her tongue back at her girlfriend. "As I was saying, Santana and I had just finished finding the greatest place in the city to make a dance studio. It's perfect with so much space and an ideal location. I have no idea why no one hasn't taken it before. Anyway, we were leaving there and walking back to our apartment when we saw this lady get pushed down by someone in the street. It was pretty crowded. She got up and kept walking. The guy she bumped into didn't even say sorry."_

"_He was an asshole!"_

"_He was probably in a hurry. Besides…we don't say those words in front of LT, San!"_

"_LT's heard worse. Hell! He's been called worse!"_

"_So this woman starts walking away when I tried to help her up. She was already half way down the block when I noticed that she had dropped her wallet onto the street when she got knocked over. With all my expert training at being a detective the past year, I quickly deduced that it was indeed the lady's and she even indeed-ed-er forgot it! So I ran as fast as I could to catch up with her. What I didn't know was that at the same time I was running after her, a cop must have seen me running with the wallet in my hand and thought I was stealing it! Santana told me all this later because she followed. So it was like a chase like the ones in the movies when they've got like that hovering camera angle. You know when it's suspended and looking down on us. The woman bustling through the crowds and me, running after with a cop right behind me. That angle. What's that angle called, babe?"_

"_Like a helicopter? Or an aerial view?"_

"_Nah that's too much of the chopper thing and it makes noise and I don't remember a helicopter being there…"_

"_That's what they use for those scenes, B."_

"_A magic carpet! It was like a magic carpet hovering over us and watching the whole thing!"_

"_Sure, a magic carpet. You know I could have told this whole story and we'd be done with it like ten minutes ago. And dinner is almost ready so you better wrap it up over there or I'll have to eat with Lard Tubbs and I'd hate to do that."_

"_Stop calling him names, San. He can hear you."_

"_I hope he does! Finish up already or I'll be forced to cut it short!"_

"_Fine so I catch up to this lady right as the cop is rounding on me after shouting for like the last minute to stop. I didn't know!" Brittany raised her hands in the air and shrugged. "I passed her the wallet right as he grabbed me by the shoulder. He didn't know how to react at first so he kinda straightened up and took that serious tone." Brittany puffed up and placed her hands on her hips to demonstrate. Then her voice lowered to imitate the police officer. "'What are you doing ma'am?'"_

_Santana was moving in the background of the screen again setting up the small kitchen table behind Brittany. _

"_I told him that I was just returning the woman's wallet. He thanked me for being a good citizen or something. I said, 'No problem. I'm just doing my job. I am a private eye!' and then I flashed him my private eye badge that I made back at McKinley." Brittany popped up for the camera a poorly constructed, but very colorfully decorated piece of paper that had been cut out in the shape of a police badge. It clearly stated in crayon: Brittany S. Pierce – Private Eye. _

"_Well after I showed him the badge, the police guy got all upset like I had done something wrong. He was like 'You can't go around telling people you're an investigator! You don't even have it spelled right and you need to pass tests and get a license to practice! I should haul you into the station and book you for all sorts of infractions like impersonation.' Luckily my beautiful girlfriend arrived. That's Santana, in case you forgot, and she pretty much told the office that-"_

"_I told the officer that my friend was a little bit crazy and had seen too much Law and Order. Which isn't that far from the truth. I didn't want to tell him that you'd been watching too much Scooby-Doo and that was the reason why you got this investigator stuff stuck in your head."_

"_The officer than offered to give us some suggestions on the best ways to get a license and to start my own private investigator practice here in the city! The woman thanked me for the wallet and he let us go! So not only did we solve the case of the dropped wallet, but the cop told me about my next case … Getting a license! According to him the private eye actually stands for investigator which is the letter 'I' and not the eye ball that I had been drawing on all our advertisements. So I may have to change our logo or something. I'm not sure yet, but I think that if I can get my license and San starts law school we'll be like the best investigating team since Shaggy and Scooby!"_

"_I thought we already were that." Santana cut in. Her foot tapped against the floor as she cocked one hip to the side. "Are you done yet?"_

"_So that pretty much wraps up our week. I think we can do it all if you guys come in to help us! I promise you fondue, fun, and awesomeness! I want to finish the deal on the warehouse so we can convert it into a dance studio and an office for LT: PI, the 'I' meaning investigator, as soon as possible!"_

"_I never make dinner and the one night I do, you decide to film one of your shows! That's it!" Santana started to march towards the screen and Brittany. The blonde on the computer chair showed no signs of moving. Instead Brittany smirked at the camera and winked. Sometimes it was fun to get her girlfriend all worked up. The beautiful short woman crossed the space between them in no time. Without hesitation, Santana straddled Brittany in the chair pushing them both away from the table holding her laptop. _

"_Baby…" Santana's voice dropped into the sickeningly sweet, sultry sound whenever she wanted something and was going to use sex to get it. The way she straddled Brittany's lap, while only wearing a pair of red Soffe shorts, caused the material to ride up her perfectly tanned and muscled thighs. Her ass faced towards the camera on the laptop as her back arched, leaning forward. Her black tank top inched up her stomach above her hipbone, revealing deep curves along her waistline and hinted at her strong back. She leaned even further into her girlfriend's body making sure her coffee colored eyes stay trained on Brittany's blue. "Baby, I know that you want to get as much of your filming done for your show as you can. But you can film the rest of it later and edit it after we finish dinner."_

_Brittany's breath caught in her throat at the come on. Sure she had been expecting Santana to come over, but damn when her girl turned it on, she knew how to work it. She could feel Santana's thighs subtly closing around her own. The Latina's hot breath against her nape and collarbone. Every word charged with sexual tension. Damn. But the last few words caught the blonde's attention. "San, but I'm not-"_

_Her words were caught off prematurely as Santana lifted the black tank top from her torso and discarded it to the floor with one fluid motion. The reveal would have been enough to make anyone stop talking. Words stopped somewhere from Brittany's head to her throat. Instead she sputtered for a moment. Sure Britt had seen her girlfriend naked before…lots of times. Santana had decided to not wear anything under that sexy black tank. Her tits bounced with the momentum and blue eyes darted up and down from her girl's chest to her eyes. Santana smirked satisfied at Britt's reaction to her naked body. She teased further, repeating her girlfriend's words. '"San, but what', babe? I thought this was your talk show. Why aren't you talking?"_

_Red full lips whispered incendiary words as they traced the outline of Britt's jaw. The blonde tried hard to remember what she had wanted to say before her girlfriend had decided now was a good time to get it on in front of a camera. Her skin flushed at the feel of Santana's mouth opening and slowly running her tongue up her exposed neck towards the rim of her ear. Unable to help herself, Brittany reached forward and grasped both of her lover's breasts. The brunette on her lap moaned appreciatively in her ear. The vibration reverberated throughout Britt's body. A shudder ran its course down her spine. _

"_Your mouth's open, B. Your viewers might think you look ridiculous so you better edit this part of your show out before you post it." Santana teased every word against her girlfriend's earlobe. _

_Brittany moaned again as Santana's lower body rolled into her groin. A jolt of pleasure rippled through her body. It didn't last for long. Her computer started to make all sorts of beeping noises as she was receiving message after message. Suddenly the blonde remembered what was so important to tell her girlfriend. "San! I forgot! This is my first live stream!"_

_Santana jumped at the words and quickly turned around to face the screen. Her hands covered her chest trying to cover her naked torso as she frantically glanced at the comments coming from their friends. Puck's screenname had popped up about a hundred times thanking every god and goddess and alien for letting him get to see this. Allie, Brittany's sister, had written in all caplocks: STOP FUCKING EVERYWHERE NOT EVERYONE WANTS TO SEE IT; Mercedes had written lolololol; and it seemed that Rachel and Quinn were having a heated debate as to whether watching their friends get it on was considered pornography or voyeurism. _

_The brunette groaned. "You gotta be fucking kidding me! Pervs! You could have at least called me to warn me, Cedes or even you, Quinn!" _

_Mercedes kept sending hysterical laughter through her comments and Quinn was too busy responding to Rachel to even realize Santana had addressed her. _

"_It was nice of you all to be here, but I think Brittany's done with her little show for the day…And probably forever." Santana shut the lid of the laptop with a definitive slap of her hand. _

* * *

The video shut off and asked if she would like to replay it or to watch another one. It had been over a solid year since Santana could remember the last time she had sat down to watch that video or any of Brittany's catalogued videos. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard unsure what to do.

"Shit…" She whispered quietly to herself as her memories were jarred from hibernation. How could she have buried these moments for so long only to have them return with such lucid poignancy? It wasn't just the video anymore. She could smell their apartment – Brittany had gone flower picking in the park and there were dandelions scattered about in small Dixie cups. Not exactly the fanciest flowers, but Britt had picked them so Santana had gladly arranged them around their shared living space. Even though it had been obscured in the video, Santana remembered exactly what she had been cooking for them to eat that day – stir fry with chicken. They had been watching a cooking show the previous day and Santana had wanted to make them something new.

After that video, Santana leaned too hard into her girlfriend. The back legs of the chair lifted from the ground, snapped with their combined weight, and they were sent toppling backwards. The chair had been unfixable – completely destroyed, but neither girl cared very much at the time. The evening had been spent with each other, on each other, and all over the apartment. Eventually they got around to dinner. By then, it had grown cold, but they had been famished so it tasted even better.

Her fingers brushed over the keyboard. Sure, she could play the video again, but it hurt more than anything, especially after yesterday. Santana looked around her hotel room. It had everything a hotel room needed – a bed, tv, window, and a small table. It was at a nice hotel, but it felt like shit. Or maybe that was her projecting. Yesterday had been shitty. Or at least the way it ended had been shitty.

Guilt staunchly lingered and remained from when she walked away from Britt at the police station. No matter what their feelings were towards each other, they needed to focus on the case so they could move on. Her eyes darted to her cell phone. She debated if she needed to call Terry to give an update on the case or to ask how everything was back at the office. But some things could wait.

Brittany couldn't.

This time she did use her phone. She picked up a piece of paper that had been slipped under her door and placed it on the table - probably the hotel bill. It was time to do a bit of investigative work herself. Even if she didn't have the license or the business cards, Santana had spent the better part of her time in New York helping her girlfriend chase down all sorts of people, problems, and cases. What she had learned after all those years was that one couldn't wait for the right pieces to fall into one's lap. She had to go out there and find them. The easiest way to do that wasn't rocket science – it was all about who you knew.

* * *

This time Puck didn't even bother knocking on Britt's apartment door. No surprise, the door swung open easily. He quickly shut it and drew the chain across to lock it. Better safe than sorry. He caught himself from falling face first into a pile of clothes. A few cusses left his lips. Seriously, the day he didn't almost die walking into Brittany's place would probably be the end of the world. Once again it was early in the morning, according to Pierce Time. But he had been up for a few hours,already been to the station and told that he needed to check out the state of his charge after yesterday's interrogation. And there were a few other reasons why he braved Brittany's apartment today.

His head poked into the kitchen hoping that perhaps the blonde would be dapper and cheerful for another morning of tedious and unrewarding work. No blonde. Everything was dark. Which meant Britt had to be sleeping off another night of drinks and regrets. Puck hadn't been able to catch up to her before she blew out of the station not that long after Santana. If he had, he would have offered to take her out again.

The bedroom was dark. Once again he could already tell there was more than one body in the bed. Well, at least he would be rewarded with another naked woman. If there was one advantage of being Britt's leash/nanny, it had to be that wherever the blonde went, some woman would inevitably see that look in Brittany's blue eyes and fall instantly in love. Before the great falling out with Macklin, Puck had regularly accompanied Britt to various bars only to watch in stunned amazement as women would flock to him only to get _her _story.

His eyes glanced back through the hallway towards the door to the apartment. The chain and dead bolt could only keep some people out for so long. No time for Britt's shit today.

The room was like a landmine, but Puck managed to get through it with all limbs intact. He leaned over the bed to the only sleeping figure not fully under the covers. Brittany's blonde hair stuck to the pillow and her face, but he knew for sure it was her.

"Come on, Pierce. Get up." He whispered into her ear and pushed back a few strands of her hair.

No response. He wasn't surprised.

"Britt, this time it's a real fucking emergency."

"The only emergency I am waking up for is like 40 stories tall and a green dinosaur." The blonde mumbled back practically sleeping.

"Godzilla?" Puck asked confused at the reference.

"No…" Brittany turned away from the intrusive voice and pulled the covers over her head. "…Reptar."

"Reptar?" Puck groaned and now reached out to shake her shoulders trying to stress the urgency. "Are you still drunk? Get the fuck up! I'm not playing you!"

"Uggh."

Puck glanced back towards the door again. It rattled once then twice before the knocking started.

Too late.

"Britt, we've only got a few minutes-" Puck started talking as he abandoned his original plan to get Britt up first. It would be easier and faster to get the other woman out of the bed. Once he reached the other side of the bed, he quickly whipped the sheets up. His eyes were already focusing on the wall so he wouldn't make the woman uncomfortable assuming she was naked like the last one had been. "So let's get your slam piece out of here before-"

"Hey!? What the fuck, dude?" A gruff voice much deeper than Puck had expected came from the bed below. Puck's eyes immediately dropped from the far wall to the body next to Brittany.

This was not a woman.

His eyes dropped a little lower.

"Uhh-" Puck froze.

Definitely not a woman.

The man reached up and violently took back the sheets from Puck's hand. The detective was speechless. That was not what he wanted to see this morning. He was definitely not being rewarded. More like punished. The rattling at the door reminded him of the reason why he needed to get Brittany up and going.

"Shit, dude, I'm sorry, but you got to get the fuck out of this bed right now." Puck responded with his best macho voice.

Annoyed, the man sat up in bed. Puck couldn't help but to admire how ripped this guy's arms and chest were. Puck shook his head angry at himself for getting distracted by the other man. What the hell was he checking him out for? He needed to get him out of the apartment. Damn Kurt and Blaine. All that exposure in glee club had happened so long ago and yet the effects still lingered.

"What are you her boyfriend? Cause I didn't know. She seemed available last night."

"Ha! He's definitely not my boyfriend." Brittany snorted into the pillow. "And you don't have to listen to jack shit he says."

"Look I'm not trying to get in between anything you have going on here."

This time both Brittany and Puck laughed as if the no-name man had said something hilarious. "Trust me. There's nothing for you to get between with us."

"Whatever, man. Just pass me my pants over there and I'll be out of here. No problem." The man pointed to the pants on the floor. Puck quickly handed them over and turned away. For all the confusion, he found his clothes and moved towards the door. "So maybe I can call you later?"

This time only Puck laughed. "Nice try, buddy."

Dejected, he shrugged and started to trek through the mess of Brittany's apartment. Puck let him get three steps before he realized why he had come into the apartment in the first place. He removed his holstered gun and pointed it at the back of the man's head. The click of the hammer caused the stranger to freeze. He raised his hands above his head as he turned around. Confusion and fear all over his face.

"I thought you said that wasn't your girl."

"She's not, but her ex-girlfriend is outside the door. Trust me; it's safer if you just follow me. And we go out the fire escape…"

"Ex-girlfriend? Safer? But you're the one pointing a gun at my head!"

"Definitely safer. I promise I'll put it away if you promise to leave with me and notgo out the front door."

"Fuck her, Puckerman. Let him go out that way. She's done with me! We broke up four years ago!" Brittany growled from the blankets.

"Four years and you're still afraid for me? Maybe I should just go with you." The man lowered his hands as Puck lowered his gun.

"Good man."

"Maybe it's a good thing she wasn't going to call me back."

"And now I know you're a smart man." Puck worked to the back of the apartment and opened the window. "Let's get out of here before all hell breaks loose."

"Fuck you! She's not supposed to be here or even know where I am!"

"Yeah well if you let her come in here she probably won't be able to find you anyway with all this shit all over the place." Puck ushered the man down the escape. He poked his head back through the window one last time. "Oh! And Pierce…try and play nice this time. The Chief says he'll be in touch."

* * *

Brittany threw the closest object on her bed stand towards Puck, but he had already closed the window. The apartment door rattled again accompanied by a familiar voice. "Noah! I don't know what game you're playing in there, but I swear I will open this door one way or another!"

The blonde's eyes darted furtively towards the door to her bedroom. Her hands ran through her hair nervously. She hadn't wanted to see Santana for awhile.

No, she hadn't wanted to see Santana ever again.

Yesterday, she felt so humiliated. She would have never gone in for a kiss like that. That had been stupid. So fucking stupid. Her heart started to beat sporadically at the memory. Her cheeks flushed with shame.

What the fuck had Dr. Mitchell given her? Maybe it had been the excitement of the day with the chase, Santana, getting hit in the leg, and then the interrogation… All that combined could have rattled her enough to make her think kissing Santana would somehow be a good idea.

No, not kissing Santana.

She could still feel the cold hand against her lips and that one word spoken with such finality it felt like a physical blow. Brittany unconsciously wiped at her lips as if that would make her feel better or erase the shame. It did neither.

"Hold on!" The blonde yelled. She finally placed her feet down on the solid ground and wobbled for a moment. Her hand reached out for the wall to hold her steady. No, she wasn't still drunk, but she was experiencing that post-drinking feeling where the room still spins and nothing seems real. "I'm coming!"

She looked around the room and grabbed a random shirt from the floor and threw it on. One more look around the apartment and Brittany scowled. She was pissed at Santana about yesterday, but mostly at herself. But none of that mattered when she looked at the state of her living space. It was disgusting. Fuck it.

The blonde grasped the handle of the door and jerked it back. It hooked on the chain and stopped. The sudden stop and noise startled her. "What the fuck, Puck!" This time she slid the chain back and slowly cracked the door open. The light from the hallway made her squint, but it wasn't hard to make out Santana's outline. Brittany felt her throat constrict.

Too many feelings from yesterday. She looked through Santana to the other side of the hallway unable to meet those beautiful eyes. "What do you want?"

Santana's tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as she waited for her ex to open the door. Even if Brittany wouldn't meet her eyes, the Latina sure did take her time gazing at the blonde. It was already 11:30 in the morning, practically the afternoon, and Brittany decided to dress herself in a man's button-down shirt three sizes too big. Obviously not hers.

And she forgot the most important part about those tricky shirts – they required the user to actually use the buttons.

Santana had been ready to rain fire upon the blonde for making her wait. Her mouth felt like ash as she couldn't look away. The shirt draped over her, covering most of her breasts while she only wore a pair of purple panties. Dark eyes lingered on her ex-lover's white skin, the dark material of her underwear, and Brittany's toned stomach, but mostly on the valley between her perfect tits. Santana remembered that area very well. What the fuck was Britt doing? But the cool uncaring gaze Brittany held for the wall convinced Santana that this wasn't some ploy to turn the tables from their uncomfortable failed moment of intimacy from yesterday.

"Seriously, Brittany?" Santana finally mustered the words to give Brittany some of the same attitude.

The blonde looked down at what she was wearing and hated knowing her cheeks had just turned pink. But she didn't close the door. With as much arrogance as she had, Brittany shrugged the shirt together to cover herself up better. "Whatever. What do you want Santana?"

"I want my case notes."

"You can't have them."

"Why?" Santana had expected resistance, not a flat out refusal. "You stole them from the department. They are mine. You have your own notes."

"You haven't earned them yet." Brittany said with a smirk.

"Fuck off, Britt. Just let me in and get the notes. Then I'll leave and you can get back to whatever or whoever you were doing." Santana finished the last sentence with a half-snarl; one she stopped half-way through. She pushed on the door, but Brittany held it firm. Her blue eyes danced as if daring Santana to get into another fight with her.

"No."

"Britt, this isn't a game."

"I know." Brittany remained resolute.

"Fine. Then I'm not leaving until you hand them over."

"Fine. You can stay out here for as long as you'd like." Brittany snapped back. Another staring contest ensued. It didn't last long. Britt knew how serious and stubborn Santana could be. Besides she had places to be and things to do in order to pay the bills. "Give me a few minutes and I'll be out."

Santana didn't know whether to believe her or not, but there wasn't much of a choice. "Fine. You better be back out here in five minutes."

"Whatever."

"You're not going to let me in?"

The door slammed shut. Santana released a breath she hadn't know she had been holding. This partnership would be the death of her. Nothing with Britt could be easy. But seeing her practically naked – that had been too easy. So many memories that tied them together. Like the video she just had to watch this morning. She leaned against the wall and let the back of her head hit.

The smell of dandelions and post-sex wafted around her from that distant memory. They were naked on the carpet with the food she had made them in their hands. Laughing and teasing. Santana jokingly swore to revoke all of Brittany's computer time if she ever did another live show without warning. She closed her eyes.

Maybe she should have given them a day to cool off before pushing the issue again. But…she was already going crazy last night thinking about Brittany. Then that stupid video… She would have gone mental alone in her hotel room all day because all she could think about was that blonde and the way Santana had justwalked out on her.

The door opened and Santana opened her eyes to blonde hair peeking out for a second, accompanied by an annoyed groan. "Seriously, how many skirts did you bring with you? Is that some sort of dress code in California?"

The door slammed back shut before Santana could even respond. Britt disappeared back into her apartment. Santana placed her forehead against the locked door and shouted. "I didn't know you had such a problem with my outfits. You never used to complain about the skirts."

The air froze and Santana could hear things banging around beyond the door followed by more muffled cusses probably in response to her words. She heard the blonde trip and mumbling more about how she must have only packed skirts – a whole suitcase of skirts and pretentious attitude from sunny California. Santana couldn't help, but smirk. There was no possible way Brittany could know she was listening to her through the door.

Again the door opened. Santana stepped to the side. Brittany muscled around so she could lock the door. Santana's mouth quirked to the side as Brittany had made it impossible to even see into her apartment, but she let it go. The problem she had was that Britt wasn't carrying her box of case notes. "Brittany, I know you didn't just lock your door and conveniently forget my notes."

"Here put these on." Britt threw her a pair of jeans with holes and paint on them. Santana caught them in the air, but gave the blonde a funny look.

"Now?"

"Yea, put'em on and stop wasting time or I'll never let you have your notes back."

Santana scowled at Britt, but looked down at the pair of jeans. "You want me to strip in the middle of your hallway? I couldn't have just put these on in your apartment?"

"I'll turn around if it makes you feel better…" Brittany said with a smirk, her lips pulled to the side.

"Don't bother." Santana responded with the shake of her head. Keeping Brittany's eye contact, Santana slid her skirt down and bent over as she did so. Brittany didn't turn around. Instead she made sure to keep her eyes from wandering, but held them firmly to Santana's. But the gaze did allow her to see Santana's black lace panties in her periphery. When she finally stood all the way back up with jeans on and her skirt in her hands, Santana lifted on eyebrow. "Satisfied?"

"Not nearly, but this will do for now."

Santana's frown deepened. She didn't like to be led around without a purpose. Her eyes dropped to her outfit and the jeans that Brittany forced upon her. The way they hugged her ass and the paint marks on the left leg seemed so familiar. "Are these mine?"

Brittany shrugged as she dug through her clothes for her pack of cigarettes.

"Why would you have my jeans?"

The blonde found her pack and lit one up. "I don't know. Do they fit? Can you move in them? Yes? Then why does it matter that I still have them?"

"Because I left four years ago."

"At the time, I thought you might come back so I put the shit you left in a box. Then I forgot about it. So I still have them. Are we done with the fucking jeans? Put the skirt back on if they are twisting your panties so much."

"No, they're fine. Whatever." Santana bit back. "They're not the problem. What are we doing? And why do I have to wear them right now?"

"Because you're not going to want a skirt on where we're going." Brittany answered matter of fact. She turned and began walking down the stairs not even bothering to make sure Santana's was following. But the tell-tale sound of her shoes echoed not far behind. Good.

* * *

**So, I am really excited to keep getting deeper and deeper into Sirens! Love that you guys are just as invested as I am! I am hard at work with the next chapter now that the Olympics are over. **

**I needed to give you some more hope for Brittana. This chapter went much faster than the last one since it didn't break my heart five hundred times to write it! Haha **

**Hope you all have an amazing week!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Once again the responses are just incredible and made me beam like an idiot all week. Like seriously, people asked what was wrong with my face and I had to tell them I was smiling so hard it hurt everyone else around to look at me. :DDDD**

**This should be a pretty low key chapter before we ramp it up again. I love ups and downs. Who wants to read a boring fic? Haha **

**Side Note: I've had this crazy CRAZY idea for a one-shot for three weeks and it's driving me nuts. So I HAVE to write it first. So expect about a week delay for all my **_**Sirens**_** readers. Those who follow me, I should have this one-shot up around this time next week and then I will back on the **_**Sirens**_** track. :D**

**Now I present the next part of …**

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 8**

Santana followed Brittany for the first two blocks before she finally caved and caught up so they were walking next to each other. They still weren't speaking. The Latina wore a scowl as she kept up with Britt's brisk pace. Why couldn't she just get her notes and leave? And why the hell would Britt still have her pants? She felt confused and annoyed, but she didn't want to deal with answers yet. For once it was better to keep her mouth shut.

"Did you eat this morning?"

"It's twelve in the afternoon..."

"So did you eat?"

"Yes."

"Good." Brittany turned the corner and walked into a construction zone in the middle of a street that had been blocked off. Most of the men ignored the two women walking on site. A few nodded and waved at Brittany as she passed, but in general, they seemed unperturbed about their presence in the work site.

"Brittany, what are we doing here?"

But Brittany ignored her and walked straight up to one of the men standing at an opened sewer hole. "Rigo! What's up?"

A rather big guy in a yellow construction hat turned around and beamed at the sight of the woman. The tools he was using dropped down to the ground as he lifted his arms up just in time to catch the leaping blonde.

"Where've you been, girl?"

"You know..." Brittany said with a smirk back. He finally placed her back on the ground.

"Around." He laughed. "I know."

"Hey, Rigo, how about you help my friend here gear up while I get a bite." Brittany pointed back to Santana with her thumb.

The man looked over Britt's shoulder to see the brunette standing awkwardly a few feet away. Santana attempted to flash him a smile, but she was sure it wasn't as pretty as most. She was not happy. "Sure thing, blondie."

Brittany moved through the site avoiding various areas and danger zones as if she had grown up with a hammer in her hand. And Santana knew that wasn't the case.

"So, you've got a date with blue-eyed lady killer, huh?" Rigo asked with a smirk as he looked Santana up and down.

Santana snorted. "Hardly."

Rigo held his stomach as he laughed. "From the tone of your voice, I'd say you've already had one."

Santana's eyebrow rose at the suggestion that she had already been with Brittany. How and why would this man know about Britt's personal life? She hadn't been curious before, but now she couldn't help herself. "So do many of her dates end up in a construction zone with big men in hard hats?"

"Hardly." He said giving her the same word she had offered him a moment again, but he did so with a great smile on his face. Rigo glanced towards Brittany with a smile. Santana felt compelled to follow his line of vision. It fell on the blonde not too far away. She chatted comfortably with a few of the work crew. They were exchanging cigarettes like trading cards and laughs like kids in the school yard.

"In fact, I don't think she's ever brought anyone around before except that one guy. But he was more like her brother. Since all they did was squabble. Said he was a cop."

Santana smiled softly. It had probably been Puck. "Yeah, I know the guy."

Her eyes lingered on Brittany for another moment before she turned back to Rigo. "Why do I need to get 'geared up?'"

Again, his dark eyes sparkled as he too finally turned away from Brittany eating and chatting with his fellow workers. "It's not that much gear. And I have no idea. Blondie does what blondie does. I just make sure she can do it with relative safety."

"So you and her aren't..." Santana trailed off.

Rigo shook his head with another big smile as he led her towards one of the trailers. "So you are interested in her, huh?" He laughed as he sorted through some belts and a few extra tools discarding some and placing aside others. "No, we're not."

"So how'd you meet?" Santana tried to ask as discreetly as possible. As Rigo offered her a pair of gloves and pointed to put them in her pockets.

"Blondie?" He looked down at Santana's heels with a smirk on his face before handing her a generic pair of boots. "She helped me and my boy out. He started hanging out with bad little punks. I hired her to just follow them around to see if my suspicions were right. She followed him for an entire week and saw them getting into all sorts of shit. I was gonna beat his ass, but she convinced me to let her handle it. She got her cop buddy to bust them one night with his car and the lights. Scared the shit out of those kids. My boy stopped hanging out with them and he's gonna be a sophomore this year. So every once in awhile she needs help getting into places and I help her out. Here, try this on."

He handed her a hard hat with a light on the top. Then showed her the button that turned it on and off. When he finished, Rigo stepped back to admire his work. "Not bad."

"I feel like one of the village people. I mean I'm gay, but not that gay..."

Rigo laughed hard. "Oh I like you. In my defense, I didn't give you your jeans. That's all you."

Brittany had just returned with a coffee in hand and stood a few feet behind Santana. With the brunette's back turned, she took her time admiring Santana in those old jeans. Britt remembered them as her work jeans; whenever Britt convinced Santana it was time for a change in their apartment or that work had to be done over at the studio. Santana would bitch and say how she didn't have time for Britt's little whimsies, but she would always show up in those jeans and they would work, play, paint, and take them off. "You done yet, Rigo, or do I have to wait for her to walk down a runway?"

"She should be good. Although I don't think it's a stretch to say I could see her strutting it even in this get-up." Now he winked at Santana who graciously smiled back at him. "Should I even ask what today's adventure is going to be?"

Brittany shrugged in agreement. No denying Santana looked pretty good in outfits, but she already knew that from years of experience with the Latina. "I need to find Croc and his chicks. You know how they always escape and somehow end up in that stupid nest down there."

"Yeah, Killer Croc and his little harem. No problem. I got a manhole only a block away from where they usually hang out. And it's open. So you should have no problem getting in and out. But I'll give some of my people a call to make sure no work is being done there all day."

"You're the best, Rigo."

"You know it. Now get out of here with your friend." Rigo turned and offered the newly suited Santana a hand. "By the way, if you ever need anything, a friend of Brittany's is a friend of mine."

"Likewise." Santana said as she took his hand. "Santana Lopez and I wouldn't be too quick to call myself a 'friend' of Brittany."

"Ahh, Santana Lopez, what a name. A man could get used to rolling that off the tongue." Brittany cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows at his response. "What?" He threw his hands up in the air. "A woman could get used to rolling that name too."

"And I'm sure your wife would love to hear that."

"You're no fun."

"And you're full of shit."

"Gotta be full of something." Rigo shrugged and gave Santana a shoulder bump with a wink. "You need anything?"

"Yeah, just a flashlight."

"You got it, Blondie." He threw one to her.

Brittany caught it in the air and clicked it on and off to make sure Rigo had given her a good one. Once she was satisfied, she started to walk through the construction site again. Santana's mouth dropped at the interaction. Again, Brittany was making her feel like an idiot. She looked to Rigo. "Why isn't she wearing all this? And what do you mean by croc? Damnit!" Santana took after Brittany. Rigo gave her a shit-eating grin and raised his hands.

Always chasing Brittany. Some things really never changed.

* * *

"Brittany, I don't know why you just won't talk to me about what we are doing here." Santana dodged another plank of wood and a few men and women working at the far end of the site. She managed to grip the side of her hat to keep it on top of her head. But it was becoming annoying. "Britt!"

"What?" Brittany finally turned around. The blonde had been about to say something, but the sight of Santana in her current outfit only made her lips smirk. The moment wasn't lost on Santana. She felt something like a blush rise in her cheeks as she realized Brittany was checking her out in this outfit. But she battled it off.

"As much as I am really enjoying this little field trip, where are we going?"

"We're here." Brittany said. She stood in front of a grate that had been pulled open to allow for better drainage at the site by the construction crew. Santana peered into the wet, dark opening with obvious hesitation.

"Serious?"

"Dead." Brittany flicked her flashlight on and looked around to see if anyone was watching them. It seemed like Rigo had done his job and moved his crews away from the area. Perfect. She noticed the look on Santana's face and couldn't help to make a playful jab. "What, Lopez? Don't tell me that you've lost your edge out there in California. No Lima Heights attitude? Now it's just Hollywood complacency?"

"Complacency, huh?" Santana readjusted her hard hat and pulled up the boots Rigo had issued to her. "Bitch, I wouldn't know complacent if it bit me in the ass. Get moving, Pierce, so I can get my damn notes back and we can end this little parade you've been leading me on all morning."

The blonde took the hint and ducked her head into the opening and popped into the dark space under the city. Under her breath, Brittany murmured. "That's the Santana I remember." Even if they weren't together, Brittany had only seen glimpses of the woman she had known and fell in love with so many years ago. But that couldn't be her focus. As soon as those thoughts crossed her mind, the woman instantly pushed them away and replaced them.

No, fuck Santana. She left. She'll leave again.

So why was she dragging her all through New York? Brittany scowled as she pushed aside some debris to make a path. Her boots hit the dark water of the sewer. She thought of the box of things she had pulled out that morning to get Santana a pair of jeans. It would have been easier to throw the box at the brunette and decide to see her the next morning. God, she could be so dumb sometimes.

"I doubt my box is down here." Santana muttered from behind. Despite Brittany's dark thoughts, she couldn't help but smile to herself as she heard Santana's boots hit the water followed by a groan. "Gross."

"You used to like getting down and dirty…"

"And you used to make it more pleasurable." Santana bit back without missing a beat. Again, Brittany couldn't help but smirk at Santana's quick tongue. She had always been able to dish it out fast and hard. It had been a trait most people didn't understand, but one that Brittany had thoroughly enjoyed when they had been together.

The strange sewer was getting darker and harder to navigate for Santana. She took a few steps to be closer to Brittany and her flashlight. No matter how much they could banter, Santana had yet to receive an answer as to why they were trekking down here in the first place. Where were they going? Her eyes squinted to adjust to the poor light.

"Brittany, as much as I enjoy your interesting idea of a tour through New York, if you wanted to kill me and hide the body, I would have willingly walked anywhere else. The sewer is a little cliché and totally overkill to be honest and I know you're more creative than that." Santana made a point to step over some discarded trash as she ducked her head to follow Brittany down another ominous passageway. Needless to say, Santana felt both impressed and cautious that Brittany knew her way so well down here. The woman in front of her seemed to move effortlessly through the sewer tunnels. "And what the hell is Croc or whatever Rigo was talking about? By the way, he is far too nice for dealing with your shit. So whatever you've got going on down here, it better not get him in trouble."

"You know-" Brittany began as she flashed the light down two diverging tunnels before taking the one on the right. "-you always did talk a lot whenever you were nervous."

"I'm not."

"And you get sharp when you're annoyed or anxious…" Brittany stopped in their path and turned around to face Santana. She wanted to see the other woman's reaction.

They were close now since Santana could barely see Brittany's flashlight ahead of her body. Now the light penetrated the shadows around their figures in the dark, damp passageway. Santana stopped talking as her equally as sharp retort caught in her throat. This was the first time they had actually spent making legitimate eye contact since the police station yesterday. That heavy weight that had been resting on her chest since her return to New York gained about a hundred pounds. Santana cleared her throat before answering directly into the light shining in her face. "I'm neither."

Brittany took a step forward to close the gap between them. Santana suppressed the urge to fidget and duck away from Brittany's advance. She didn't know what game the blonde was playing, but she had made it perfectly clear that she couldn't go back. Not the way they were. It would be impossible. And yet, the way Brittany so easily narrowed the space between them set her heart pounding and her fingers twitching.

"Don't you trust me?" The blue eyes asked.

Santana returned the intense stare even if she wanted to turn away. Did she trust Brittany? It seemed no matter if she walked away, she always ended up following her right back down another rabbit hole – or in this case a manhole. Fuck. What kind of question was that? Did she trust her not to kill her down here? Of course. Did Santana trust her not to shoot someone? Not to be a total fuck up? Not to be so involved with the case that she got herself killed? She couldn't trust her four years ago.

Fuck, Santana had trusted Brittany with the most intimate piece of herself. And look where they ended up? On opposite sides of the country.

Santana opened her mouth, but she didn't have an answer. Because the answer would be "no".

It didn't matter if Brittany knew the answer or not, she still moved closer. Her right hand reached up. Santana shied away. The motion was so slight, but its effect pronounced. Brittany's eyes no longer sparkled, but her hand didn't move back. It continued onward till it touched the side of Santana's hard hat. It flicked the switch for the light on. It shown brightly in Brittany's face. "You just flick the switch to turn the light on and off. Rigo should have showed you."

A breath which Santana had been holding released as she realized what Brittany was doing. Yet, the sinking feeling in her chest remained even after Brittany pulled away. "He did…" Santana whispered softly, but the blonde continued to walk down the corridor. Santana put her head down for a moment before she continued following. It was easier to walk now that she had a light of her own.

"I got a call for a job last night. I still take regular clients." Brittany answered one of her questions from before. She added, as she normally did when talking about her side jobs. "Gotta pay the rent somehow."

Santana paused and looked at the back of Brittany's head curiously. "What happened to all the money that you had from your parents?"

Brittany could have smacked herself in the head. She was talking to the same woman she had spent most of her life with and she knew about her finances. "It's all tied up." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't really an answer.

Santana frowned, but didn't press any further. She let it slide. Whatever right she had to know about Brittany's financial situation had long since passed.

"And Croc?"

A small laugh came from the other woman. "You'll see. I promise he's all he's cracked up to be and more."

"What does that even mean?" Santana kept pace with was less difficultly now.

Brittany ducked into another passageway and moved aside a grate with ease. Her blonde locks swung from either side of her ponytail. Santana stepped into something else she didn't want to think about. Silently she thanked Rigo for the boots and to a lesser extent she thanked whatever made Brittany keep her jeans for this long. A tinge of heat flooded her cheeks as she thought about the implications. Why would she have kept the box of her stuff? She had left so angry – so hurt and crushed. Santana barely packed anything before she had boarded that plane. It hadn't been easy. It still wasn't easy to look at Brittany and have memories and videos like that one she had watched that morning. Her hands made the mistake of touching the walls and came away feeling slimy. Great.

"Almost there."

"If it's a fucking crocodile or some shit like that, I will have Macklin lock you up."

"Close." Brittany pulled back and held out her hand for Santana to take. Without thinking, Santana took the offered hand so they could climb up to another walkway. Once they got to the top, Brittany clapped her hands together to wipe the dirt off. Santana did the same with a dissatisfied look on her face. "Having fun yet?"

"A blast. Are we done yet?"

"He's right up here." Brittany motioned with her head as they rounded the corner. Right in front of the blonde on a nest of old crumpled up newspapers and trash was a duck. No, not just a duck. He was surrounded by two hens. It was the strangest sight Santana had ever seen. Well, no, she had lived with Brittany for years, but it was the oddest thing she had seen in a very long time.

"What?"

"It's Croc." Brittany answered as if it was a known fact. "He likes to lead the hens down here where he feels like he can be the big rooster of the group."

"But it's a duck."

"Eh. Ms. Patty explained it to me. He took on the persona of the rooster since he lived with the hens for so long. He thinks he's a hen."

Santana shook her head still unable to comprehend what Brittany was saying. The blonde was approaching the duck with caution now as if it really did have teeth like its namesake. The duck backed up, nervous at the woman's approach. "If we can get Croc, the hens will follow."

"But why are we rounding them up? And Ms. Patty? Like Pat? Our old building mate?"

"Yes to all of the above. Now be ready to nab him!" Brittany answered hurriedly as she made her lunge for the duck. Croc skirted out of the way and ran between her legs. Santana bent over and scooped the animal up into her arms. Unclear who was more surprised – Brittany, Santana, or the now frantically struggling duck – Brittany smiled at the brunette. "Nice nab."

"Yeah…" Santana made a face as the duck struggled in her arms. She held him tight until he started to calm down. The hens were clucking now and making noises, but were compliant with Brittany's hand motions to move towards the sewer covering not that far away from them. "But why are they down here?"

"Ms. Patty sometimes lets them out of her apartment and Croc loves coming down here. After I moved out of our old apartment, she called me up begging me to find Croc and the hens. I scoured the city, but no word from anyone on a duck and some hens. I mentioned it to Rigo one time and he said he had seen the strangest thing when they had been doing some work over here." Brittany pushed at the sewer covering that Rigo had said would be loose when they needed to leave. He must have sent one of his men over because it slid to the side without much effort. "Turned out Ms. Patty's animals had set up a roost here. That's how he got his nickname, Croc. Rigo's crew thought it was really funny so they call me whenever they get word of Croc roaming. Most of the time, he's always here in the same spot. It's not that far from the old apartment. If you don't mind, carrying Croc for a bit…"

The duck squirmed in her arms as if he knew that he was going back. Santana's mouth still hadn't closed. How could this be the same Brittany? That ridiculous smile on her face seemed so natural as she picked the hens up one by one and placed them on the street above. Santana wordlessly handed her Croc and lifted herself to the street above. It only took her a moment's glance to realize they were in the back alley of their old complex. Santana couldn't believe it.

"We're right here. I can't believe we're actually here. When did you sell the apartment?"

Brittany handed the duck back to Santana before she gathered the two hens. They walked to the front door and ignored the stares from people on the street. At Santana's question, the P.I. changed the subject. "Yeah, I told you Croc doesn't like to go too far."

* * *

"Oh thank goodness you found my babies!" Ms. Patty swung the door open at the sight of Brittany in the eyehole. The woman had that strange eccentric smell, the one acquired after years of not caring about society at large. Pat had been doing that since the forever. Even when they had lived in the building, Brittany and Pat had found each other through some strange affinity for all things living. Brittany had always been fascinated by animals. "Come in! Come in! And go ahead and just put them down."

Santana felt a strong nostalgia, just as potent as the one she had felt while watching the video. Being in this building, so close to where they used to live together, it was surreal. All she had to do was take the elevator up one more floor. Her eyes lingered on the steel doors down the hall before she was ushered into Patty's home. Brittany placed the hens on the ground and Santana followed suit. Taking her lead from the other woman.

It had been forever since she had been here. But not much had changed. Pat still sported the jungle look – her home was a mess of overgrown plants and animals either in cages or as in the case of Croc, wandering free. It was amazing that she hadn't been evicted yet.

"You're absolutely wonderful, Brittany, for always going to chase after him. You know how forgetful I am. He just wanders away and they follow him everywhere." Ms. Patty brushed some grey hair away from her eyes and finally got a good look at the two of them. In fact, it was the first time she noticed Brittany didn't come alone. "Oh, and thank you for helping me too – Santana?"

Santana couldn't help, but smile as the other woman recognized her. For a moment, Patty stared at her as if she was seeing a ghost. "My Lord, I had no idea that it was you, but you look like you did when you first came here with those tattered jeans. But what's that on your head?"

A blush blossomed in her cheeks as she realized that was still wearing that ridiculous hat. She even felt like she was eighteen again – blushing like a teenager. Hurriedly, she removed the yellow hat and made sure the light was turned off. "It's nice to see you again, Ms. Patty."

"Please, you never called me that when you lived here." The old woman shook her head as she moved around a rather large orchid plant towards the kitchen. She garbled to herself as she began pulling coffee cups from the cupboard. "Crazier things have happened. Crazier things. Well sometimes fate kicks in, ya old fart. Leave the young ones alone."

"Do you need something?" Brittany asked unable to understand even half of what Ms. Patty was saying.

"No, no, I am just going to make you two a cup of tea. Make yourselves at home." She placed the cups down and pulled the hot water off the stove. Santana began to wander around the apartment as she reacquainted herself with the setting. It felt like a dream. Pat smiled softly as the other girl disappeared into the flora before she turned her attention back to Brittany. "Where was he this time?"

"Oh you know, hanging out. It was no trouble at all, so you don't need to concern yourself."

"Well, I know you are covering for him because you all smell a little funny. Just tell me what I owe you so I know it isn't too much trouble for your time."

Brittany tipped her hat backwards off her head and caught it with a flourish as she sat down at the table. With a confident smirk, she shook her head. "The same price I always give you."

"A cup of tea isn't going to pay your bills."

"Don't worry about it. I love finding Croc and the hens. It gives me an excuse to come back here."

"You know that you could come back anytime. It does nothing to let yourself gather dust locked away." Ms. Patty shook her head disapprovingly, but her eyes took a glance in Santana's direction. The brunette was working around the apartment. Her tanned hands brushed against broad leaves and lingered for cats to smell. Patty had a sense when it came to animals. People had always been an issue for her, but when a bouncing blonde ball of energy came bustling through her floor with a fat cat in her hands; she had made an instant connection.

"It's not that easy to come back." Brittany avoided following Patty's eyes. She knew where they would lead.

"You just got to turn the key." Patty poured the water into Brittany's cup.

Blue eyes looked up to meet the older woman. In earnest, she questioned. "What if it doesn't fit?"

"I'm sure you can get the landlord to fix it, honey, or use some of those investigator skills to figure out a way in." Patty shook her head at the problems of youth. Her eyes once again returned to the other woman wandering around. "How long is she staying?"

"Not long." Brittany said. Her eyes finally dropped to the cup. It was better to concentrate on the now.

"Come on over here, Santana! I've got your cup ready." Ms. Patty waved Santana over. The Latina stopped petting Croc and looked up. She didn't want to intrude on whatever reunion they had been having. She hadn't seen Pat in four years and she had left abruptly. She felt uncomfortable, but she sat down at the table as if nothing had changed. The tea was at the perfect temperate and she eagerly drank it without any of the sweetener. Brittany had already helped herself to the sugar and the honey on the table. "What have you been up to?"

Santana took a sip of her tea before answering the question. She was acutely aware of the blonde's presence. They hadn't even talked about their lives since she had blown back into town. It seemed strange and off-putting to catch up through a third party. "Working mostly. Actually that's all I have been doing."

"Working? That's it? That's no good at all. It's good to see that you can still come around and have fun." Patty looked down at Santana's get-up.

"This? No. I am just helping for the day. I didn't even know what I was getting into."

"Well it's a good thing you got into it. It's hard to find a good partner in this business. I don't think Brittany has found one yet. Have you?"

Brittany stared intently into the dark liquid which hadn't grown any lighter even with the extras she had put in it. Why did she think this was a good idea? "No, I haven't. I don't need one."

Patty ignored Brittany's rather trite answer. "Do you have a partner wherever you are?"

"I'm out in California and yes, I do, but not the way you think. The private investigating business was Brittany's gig. I helped her whenever she needed it. I work at a law firm."

"Wonderful! Now how long to you plan to be here because I have a few legal problems about zoning and animal control that I think you could probably help with…" Patty said with a wink.

Britt groaned. "Okay, we're done with tea and helping. I'm sure big time Santana has too much on her plate to worry about the zoo you keep in here."

Standing, Brittany placed her hat back on her head. Santana got up from her chair without thinking. They didn't need to speak, but that was definitely the signal that Britt wanted to go. "Thanks for the tea, Pat. It was nice to see you again."

"Anytime, dear." She turned to Brittany after a kind smile to Santana. "How's the little one?"

Britt stiffened.

"I always loved seeing him with my babies." She looked lovingly over her plants and the various animals which made up the jungle-like setting of her apartment.

Britt purposely avoided Santana. "You mean LT?"

"Yes, of course, how could I forget his name? How's the little rascal doing? He was delightful."

"He's…" Brittany clicked her tongue to her teeth trying to find the words. "He's not around anymore…"

"What a shame." The woman shook her head. "Well you tell him that I miss him and I would love to see him again."

"I will." Britt choked. Santana watched wordlessly as Brittany fell into the woman's arms and they exchanged a prolonged hug. She remembered how Britt and LT used to spend all sorts of time down here, but she didn't realize how strong their connection had been over that cat.

Shit. She didn't realize how much she missed that cat too. Lord Tubbington and the brunette had a special relationship – one of disrespect and understanding that both of them were trying to be top pussy in Brittany's life. Since she left Britt, it seemed as if the feline might have won that battle.

But even as she turned her attention back to the now, Santana realized this moment was lasting longer than she expected. The Latina lingered at the doorway trying not to draw attention to herself and intrude on their moment. Patty noticed the awkwardly shuffling Santana and smiled over Brittany's shoulder and motioned for her to join them. "Well don't just stand there! Come over here!" Brittany hesitated for only a moment before she opened her arms up for Santana to join them.

Santana walked over and was enveloped by Patty's encompassing embrace. At first, her body rejected the physical squeeze and tensed, but eventually she relaxed. One might have said she even enjoyed it as she closed her eyes and allowed herself to be loved for that moment. It all faded away. Everything just washed away except for two sets of arms holding her. Patty pulled away and the moment ended. "Now you two come around here again, okay?"

They both nodded. And Santana couldn't shake that feeling that she was eighteen again. They would go upstairs to their apartment after collecting LT and laugh about all the fun they had had with the kooky animal lady downstairs. The first time she had met Patty had been well after Brittany had decided that her apartment would be her new favorite hang out. Brittany, LT, and Patty were having a lovely tea party. Santana had been frantically searching for Brittany inside the building, outside of the building, down the street, when she decided to go up and down the floors. Finally, she heard Britt's laughter through one of the doors. Patty opened the door up and took one look at her ragged appearance; she declared that Santana join them right away. It had been one of those days that only happened when Brittany Susan Pierce was a mainstay in her life.

As they exited the apartment, Santana risked one more glance towards the elevator which would lead her up to their old floor, but Brittany took the stairs. Santana followed.

* * *

"I don't know what game you're playing at-"

"-there's no game…" Brittany responded softly without interrupting Santana.

"-but this isn't over. I need my case notes. So…can I come over tomorrow?" Santana got out of the taxi holding her skirt in her hand and the hard hat in the other. They were outside her hotel. Brittany had offered to ride with her and drop her off first.

The pause wasn't as long as Santana anticipated. "Sure."

The Latina nodded once and dared to slip the other woman a small smile before she closed the taxi door. She waited for a moment to watch Britt drive away. The doorman held open the impressive gold colored doors for her to walk through. Santana thanked him. Wearing half of New York's sewer system, her ripped old jeans full of dirty water, and smelling like a farm, Santana didn't care. She didn't get her case notes and she virtually accomplished nothing. Yet for some reason, she was wearing a smile on her face. Today had been better.

As she passed the main desk counter, one of the receptionists called out to her. "Ms. Lopez?"

"Yes?" Confused, she walked over to him.

"I have a message for you."

"From whom?"

"Didn't say. It was a phone call and I was told you needed to receive it right away." The man handed over a small slip of paper. It only had an address on it. Santana flipped it over in her hand confused.

"Are you sure? It's just an address."

"Yes, ma'am. I took the message myself."

"Do you have someone who can drive me there?"

"Sure, I can have one of the hotel cars take you. I'll call him to meet you out front." Santana nodded and waited for the car. The address wasn't far from the hotel. The driver informed her that it was near a neighborhood park and a few other attractions the locals normally enjoyed. As they neared the street, the sound of sirens became clearer. The red and blue lights bounced from parked cars, the sides of buildings, and all around the hotel car. A policeman stood in the middle of the street with his hand held up in a firm "stop" position. The driver turned to her and shrugged.

"It's fine. I can get out here." Santana flipped him a few bills and opened the door. Approaching the scene of the crime, the cop was already stretching the yellow police tape across the street. Upon seeing Santana's determined walk, he paused to once again put his hand up.

"Miss, I'm afraid this part of the street is off-limits. I'm going to have to ask you to step back from the line. This is official police business."

Santana sighed with annoyance. "Look, I just got the message. I am here as a consultant to the precinct for the Strangler case. I'm sure Chief Macklin already cleared me to be on the scene."

After every word, the policeman's face revealed further confusion. He shook his head as if whatever Santana's was saying was totally unbelievable. "I don't know how he could have done that since I just called this into the station. We arrived on the scene only a few minutes ago. There is no way he could have called you in already. And I didn't even tell them this had anything to do with the Strangler case. I'm not sure where you're getting your information, but it isn't from the police and I am going to ask for you to stay here. I'm sure the chief will want to speak to you about this. So if you'd just step back from the tape, I am sure that we can sort this out when someone with a bigger pay grade comes along."

It took a few minutes for his words to sink in. The woman looked down at the piece of paper with the address on it then back to the flashing lights of the police cars barricading any passerby's sight. Again she flipped the address over and over again in her hands in disbelief. A cold shiver ran through her body. If these cops were the first on the scene, why would she get a message with this address on it? Frantic for answers, she burst under the tape despite the cop yelling for her to stop. Santana's eyes strafed left to right, left to right, and then back again, desperate. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. Every shadow created by the lights of the cop cars seemed hostile.

Still wearing her jeans, she hopped over the hood of the police car and came face to face with every nightmare that had haunted her for the past four years. On the ground, laying face up was the body of a lifeless young woman - blood all over her collarbone and in her hand she held that which should have been in her throat. The police pictures she had tried so hard to repress, the ones she had gone to therapy to exercise from her mind, violently ripped through her subconscious. The pictures of a woman she had once called a friend replaced the face on this new body lying in the street.

Santana put a hand to her mouth to stop herself from releasing any noise – any of the oppressive and inescapable horror she felt. A set of hands reached out and pulled her back away from the display and behind the line of cop cars.

* * *

**Until next time…**


	9. Chapter 9

**Seriously, the reviews were so great. I know something's going right when I see "omg" written several times and in several different ways which weren't repeated (omg!, OMG, oh my god, etc.). You guys also threw around the word "shit" everywhere! And then one of you so eloquently stated that the ellipses would kill you. Well if the (. . .) don't kill ya, then according to most of you, the Strangler will! So watch out if your name is either Brittany or Santana! ;)**

**That whole paragraph was really me rambling about how much I love all my readers! Thank you!**

**But onto the next captivating episode of…**

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 9**

_Red. _

_Blue. _

The drive back from Santana's hotel had been uneventful. Yet Brittany felt a great anxious energy after Santana had flashed her that smile outside the taxi. The day seemed like it would have been the first in a long time when she would perhaps just fall asleep without the ache to go out and forget everything. Maybe she'd even turn on the television and pass out to the sound of cartoons or something mindless. Yeah, it had been a good day. When was the last time she had one of those?

_Red. _

_Blue._

_And now the sirens._

Puck had called not long after she had thrown a frozen dinner in the microwave and turned on the television. Some kids' cartoon she had never heard of played in the background as she answered the detective.

"_What's up, Puck?"_

"_Britt? Oh shit, you answered for once."_

"_Yeah…what?"_

"_I just didn't- nevermind. Look, Brittany, there's been an incident."_

Brittany's heart stopped. Maybe a week ago, she wouldn't have cared. She would have just asked Puck to spit it out, but now there were complications in New York. A complication. One, just one complication that she never thought would cause her pause again. Yet, her pulse raced at Puck's tone._ "What kind of incident?"_

"_It's Santana."_

Was that fear?

"_It's can't be. I just saw her."_

"_She's physically fine; I just think you should come, like…now."_

"_Where?" _Britt had already grabbed her hat from the table and stuffed it on her head. The microwave dinner completely forgotten.

"_There's been another body discovered. We're at the crime scene now."_

Brittany slammed the door to her apartment without locking it._ "Why the fuck wasn't I told about this, Puckerman!?"_

"_I'll explain when you get here." _Puck said without rising to Brittany's callous question. Now wasn't the time to yell back._ "I'll text you the address."_

"_Yeah, I'll grab a cab."_

"_And Britt…"_

"_Yeah?"_

He paused, but never finished his thought. Maybe it was unimportant. _"Just get here."_

_Red. _

_Blue._

Brittany pushed past a few camera crews and news casters already circling the crime scene like a pack of vultures. They would swoop at the first sight of blood and roll the news clip right away at even the slightest hint of a body. She could remember acutely when they used to circle around her after she got involved in the case. Back then was when she had developed the ability to block them and the rest of the world out. Even now, she barely gave them a passing glance.

It always seemed like the sirens were louder as she approached a crime scene, but once she ducked under that yellow tape, the noise drowned out. It would blend into the background like an accompaniment instrument to the moment at hand. No one bothered her as she crossed the line and headed towards the commotion. Maybe they had seen her at crime scenes before. But the more likely reason, she looked like she belonged there. Her eyes were no longer the welcoming blue, but the steel of determination as she sifted her way through the crowd.

There were cars and officers everywhere walking back and forth. It created a mess of bodies and made it hard to discern where the actual crime scene was. It effectively prevented cameras from taking photos or video. Macklin didn't want the story to break without his guidance and Brittany understood why. But this was the second murder; it would break whether he wanted it to or not.

Ahead there was an ambulance flashing its red lights. The back of the vehicle had been opened and a familiar body sat on the lip of the door clutching a blanket around her body. Brittany's heart jumped at the sight. What the fuck was Santana doing in the ambulance? Puck had assured her that the woman was safe and hadn't been harmed. Brittany shoved her hat further down her head as she approached. An overwhelming need to hold her former best friend clouded her judgment as she practically marched towards her.

Puck turned his head up just in time to see Brittany approaching. Softly he released his grip on Santana and whispered. "Hold on, Tan. I'll be back in a moment."

Santana's eyes were dark and staring at the blacktop covering the street, unable to look up. Shivers ran up and down her body uncontrollably. Puck took her silence as permission to get up. He walked over towards Brittany and expected her to stop, but the blonde brushed past him with a hit to his shoulder. "Ow. Hey! Come on, Pierce. Don't do it like that."

With no intention of stopping until she reached Santana, Brittany was surprised when she felt Puck tugged her backwards. Off balance momentarily, she caught herself and her hat. She whipped around to glare at him. "What the fuck, Puckerman?"

"No. You what the fuck, Pierce!" Puck growled as she dragged her by her leather jacket around one of the cop cars adjacent to the ambulance.

"What do you want? Is she okay?" Brittany glanced towards the ambulance again where Santana sat like a stature unmoving. She shrugged out of his arm grab and glared at him. "Get off!"

"Brittany!" Puck said now matching her intensity with some of his own. "You need to calm the fuck down. You can't go charging over there and make a scene. She's really sensitive right now and it's not her fault that she was here."

"What the fuck are you talking about, Puck? I wasn't going to charge anywhere!"

"Well you look like you're ready to mow bitches down and as much as you hate Santana, I can't let her take the brunt of that right now." Puck said sincerely.

Brittany's head made a reactionary nervous jerk to Puck's words. Hate? Fuck did he really think that she hated Santana? Did she hate Santana? Her blue eyes soften as they gazed over the woman sitting on the step of the ambulance. She loved hating the idea of Santana – the idea of Santana's perfect life. But that woman over there? The one who looked as if she had gazed into the mouth of hell? How could she hate that woman? They had been more than lovers – more than girlfriends. They had been best friends first.

Puck saw the way Brittany's eyes softened and her mouth lost its tension. For a moment, she almost looked like the girl who used to say the most random shit in the back of the choir room. "Brittany, I didn't mean that. Are you okay?"

"Yea…" Brittany shrugged off his arm once again even if he meant it in comfort. "And you did mean it. I guess I deserved it."

"No. You didn't deserve it. I just want to make sure she doesn't get hurt." Puck said softly as he moved forward. This time he didn't allow Brittany the chance to shrug him off. He whispered into her golden hair. "I want to make sure you don't get hurt either."

"I know what I'm doing…" Brittany said back as she squirmed out of his embrace.

"Are you convincing me or yourself?" Puck called after her, but the blonde P.I. was already approaching Santana. Puck shook his head as he watched her. Nothing could be easy. Everything was always so fucking complicated.

* * *

Brittany didn't want to think about it anymore. Clearly Santana was in some sort of shock. Without another thought, she put her arm around the Latina and pulled her in close. At first, Santana didn't move, but all it took was one deep breath. Santana knew in an instant it was Brittany. She just needed someone to hold her. She melted into the embrace.

Santana didn't want to think about their past or the anger between them or the unspoken words that she knew passed with every glance. She wanted to feel safe.

"B?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

Without another word, Santana nodded and turned her head into the blonde's neck. She buried her face into the yellow hair, and broke down sobbing. Burying the images proved to be more difficult than she remembered. Brittany froze as she felt Santana release into her shoulder and share her emotions. It wasn't what she had been expecting.

* * *

"How did Lopez beat us here?" Macklin approached Puck with a cigarette already lit. He scratched at his salt and pepper beard.

"No idea."

"I don't like it."

"Me neither. What are we going to do about the press? We can't keep pushing this underneath the radar. It's gonna leak somehow."

Macklin scowled as he took another drag. His eyes went towards the people pushing up against the yellow tape. Most of the locals had cleared out or were observing from a distance. Now it was just the media storm waiting for a bite. He hated to give it to them. They were the ones who had given this killer his sensational name last time. Macklin didn't want to give the guy anything else. "Choose one of them and tell them we will have a press conference soon with details, but until then…no comment. Do we understand each other, Puckerman?"

"Perfectly, sir."

"I expect you to handle this professionally, despite your deep and personal connection to the case. I know this can be difficult for you, but I trust you, son, and I want you to be one of the leads in this case. So expect to meet with me first thing tomorrow morning to go over our statements to the press. I want you to talk during it. "

"Yes, sir, and thank you, sir."

"Sure." Macklin threw the butt of his cigarette to the ground.

"Chief?" Another officer approached them.

"What now?"

"Dispatch keeps transferring calls to the scene. They said that it's urgent for you to take the call. Some lawyer from out in California is demanding to speak to you…immediately."

"Fucking hooligans. Do they think I just stand out here to be at their beck and call? Give me the fucking phone." Macklin held out his hand. "Yeah this is Macklin. What do you want?"

Puck turned away from the chief and looked upon his two friends. He didn't know what to feel. It seemed so strange and yet so right that they should be in that position. The detective lit a cigarette of his own. It seemed crazy to think that Brittany would be the one holding Santana right now, but stranger things had happened in this city.

He walked towards the frenzied media who could smell blood in the water at his approach. The first microphone out to his face belonged to a striking woman with a dazzling smile and green eyes. Damn. Well, at least he knew which person he was going to give the scoop to.

"Officer!" The woman said trying to get his attention. "Is there anything you can tell us? What is so disturbing that every police car in the city has been called to the scene? Does this have to do with the murder that took place a few days ago?"

"First-" Puck said as he flashed her his most charming smile. "-it's detective. Second, I can't offer you any information. Chief Police Macklin will hold a press conference tomorrow afternoon where you can ask him limited questions on the subject, as this is an open case and we cannot divulge too much information."

"That was almost no information at all, Detective! Could you please just give us something else?" She beckoned her camera man to follow her closer to him as the yellow tape strained against her body.

"I'm sorry ma'am, no further comments. Please leave and allow the police to do their jobs and we will see you tomorrow."

The woman's arm dropped with the microphone, frustrated at the response. But the camera man pushed his way to her and whispered something in her ear. The woman turned back with a nasty grin on her face. "Excuse me, detective, but do you care to comment on the department's decision to call in private investigators who were part of the Midnight Strangler case from four years ago?"

Puck stiffened, but turned around and responded. "Again, that is police business and you can direct that question to the chief tomorrow."

"I think you misunderstood my intention. I was asking you that question since you seem to personally know both of the investigators called to the scene."

"No comment." Puck responded, fuming from beyond the yellow tape as he turned around to leave the reporters now all clamoring for the same attention the woman just got for their own broadcasts. But Puck left to rejoin Macklin.

* * *

"She looked just like her." Santana mumbled into Brittany's hair and jacket.

"I know. Just don't think about it right now." Brittany pulled her closer against her body. It was hard to not think about those pictures now. It's amazing how the mind can forget the silliest things like what she had to eat that morning or if she had an appointment or what street number she was looking for, but when it came to remembering those pictures, a trap door would magically unlock inside her mind and she would fall into this abyss where Rachel's dead body was the only thing she could see. Brittany had long since learned that it was worse to fight it. So she would either let herself be taken into that dark place or she would find some alcohol. "It's gonna be alright."

It was hard not to question how much she actually believed. After all these years, Brittany looked down into the dark mess of hair and wondered how Santana dealt with the pain and the images. Did she have a trap door too? She'd never wondered that before.

She looked up. Puck was approaching once more followed by Macklin.

"Pierce." Macklin nodded to her. His usually hard eyes looked down at the woman in her arms and softened. "Lopez."

Santana lifted her head for the first time. Wearily she rubbed her hands into her eyes as if that would somehow make the images go away. Finally she opened her eyes to look at the older man and police chief. "Macklin?"

Brittany coughed and inched to the left to allow Santana some space. Her arm dropped from the brunette's hair back into her own lap unsure if she should continue making contact.

"How ya holding up?" Macklin rubbed at his bald head waiting for the answer.

Never one to admit when she needed help or to acknowledge when she was in pain, Santana shook her head looking for the words. She had been unprepared. "I didn't – I wasn't ready to see that. I didn't know…It just took me by surprise. I'll be fine."

Both Brittany and Puck frowned to each other at Santana's response. No one would be fine. They weren't. Santana surely wasn't, but it was just like her to not want to ask for help. An unspoken agreement passed between the P.I. and the detective. They would both be taking care of her.

"I don't want to cause you any more stress or concern for the night, Ms. Lopez, but I am confused how you beat us to the crime scene. I spoke to the officer on duty and he told me that you had come under my orders. I can assure you that I gave no such issues."

"It wasn't you. I just didn't realize it at the time. I have no idea who told me to come out here." Santana sighed as she leaned back to shrug off the blanket draped over her shoulders. She reached into her jeans pocket for the slip of paper that the hotel receptionist had given her. "Here. This was waiting for me when I got back to my hotel room. Just like that with no message. I had no idea what it was or where it would lead, but the hotel sent me over here in a car. I saw the flashing lights so I assumed that you had wanted me to meet you or Noah because it had something to do with the Strangler."

Macklin nodded to Puck to take the piece of paper. Puck touched it by the very top corner. It had already been compromised – Santana had handled it and it had crinkled while inside her jeans. He read the address. It matched the scene of the crime perfectly. He flashed it to Macklin. Again the chief only nodded in acknowledgement, but the crow's feet on the edges of his eyes crinkled deep in thought. "I see. And there was nothing else, Ms. Lopez?"

"No, Andy." Santana used his first name not as a sign of disrespect, but just exhaustion. She didn't want to fight him or be grilled. "I got here and I freaked out. I didn't expect to be told that officers had literally just arrived and no one except for the men here and the dispatcher knew about the incident. I ran in here. I wasn't thinking. I didn't think I would see-" Her eyes shifted towards the coroner's truck wheeling away the body of another young woman.

Macklin waved off her excuses. He did understand and she had already been through enough tonight. "Thank you, Santana. For what it's worth, I'm sorry that you had to see that. I didn't mean to put you through an interrogation tonight. But I will have more questions tomorrow. And Puckerman's going to keep this for now. I suggest that you get some rest and don't go back to your hotel room tonight. The department can set you up in a safe house. Your position could have been compromised. I don't want you to be alone."

"She can stay with me."

"She can stay with me."

Both Brittany and Puck said at the same time then looked at each other. Apparently their signals had gotten just a little crossed before.

"Whatever is in Ms. Lopez's best interest." Macklin turned to leave, but then snapped his fingers together. "Also there is a Terry on the line for you. I think you should take the call before I have a law suit in my hands. You can call the dispatcher using one of the cop cars to get in touch with your boss. Good night."

"Shit. I forgot about Terry." Santana straightened up and smoothed down her hair. "Thanks. I-I got to take this."

Puck nodded and showed her over to his car where she could connect with the call through dispatch.

"Terry?" He could hear Santana saying as he started to walk away. "No, I'm alright. False alarm. You should know by now not to believe everything the news channels broadcast. They had video of me? No, I'm fine. Seriously. I was just resting. It was nothing. No, I'm not leaving."

He walked back to Brittany who still sat on the ambulance. "Hey." Puck took the seat next to her.

"Hey."

"Look, Brittany, you know that I know I don't have a lot of say in your life. And for the past few years I haven't said that much. I just kinda cleaned up after you and made sure you didn't get yourself killed. I never really offered my two cents to anything."

Brittany lit up a cigarette and offered him one . "And that's worked, so let's not try and change it now."

"But in all that time I watched you become less and less of what you used to be and more and more of this Brittany you've decided to become." Puck tested the air between them as he sought to find the words to say what he wanted without totally offending one of his best friends. The body beside him stiffened at his words, but she didn't pull her gun out on him so he figured that was permission to continue. Brittany could be so difficult to read some times. "Maybe I've just gotten so used to that Brittany that I convinced myself that you were okay or that'd you'd eventually be okay. But…"

His eyes glanced up towards the woman not that far away on the police radio. A set of blue eyes followed his line of sight unable to resist.

"But what?"

"I think it's time we stopped lying to ourselves. The Brittany I've come to expect is so layered that I wouldn't even know where to begin looking for the real her. So…" He blinked and turned to look into his friend's eyes. "I don't know what's going to be better for you in the long run. Fuck. You know and everyone knows that I've made so many mistakes in the past that I wish I could fix. I should be the last person giving you advice. So I don't know what's going to make you better. I just want you to know – no matter what…I'm here for you, Britt. I always will be. I just want to make sure I'm here for the Brittany who wants to be here, not the one who wants to drown in the past."

Brittany turned away at the last words. They hit too close to home; as if Puck knew about the fight she had had before Santana had left her.

"I guess what I'm saying is, I don't want you to get hurt again. Just be careful…okay?" Puck looked back at Santana, who was still talking to this Terry person. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to say these things, but the look in Brittany's eyes scared him. It had been a long time since Brittany's eyes had looked anything but dead. Perhaps it was the shock of seeing them light up for more than a bottle or a body to spend the night with.

"I'm not doing anything that you should worry about. I'm making my check-ins and I haven't shot anyone yet. So you don't have anything to worry about." Brittany brushed off the remark. She knew that wasn't what he was talking about, but it was better than confronting the real problem. The cigarette butt glowed and she focused on the dark smoke curling upwards.

Puck shrugged. Typical Pierce response – avoidance and repression. At least he had said his piece. He wouldn't feel guilty later if everything in her world broke again. "Yeah, I guess I'm just worrying for no reason."

Shit. Who was he kidding? He'd feel guilty and he'd be the one to pick her blonde ass off the floor again. He moved to get up, but a hand grabbed onto the material of his jacket. For the first time since he sat down to talk with her, Brittany's piercing blue eyes met his. A chill ran down his body. Sometimes he forgot how crystal and cold they had become, but for a second the ice melted. It that moment, Puck knew this was Brittany who wanted to say something, not her bravado.

"Noah." She paused as if trying to remember how to say those words. "Thanks. I mean it. Thank you for always having my back."

Puck went to say 'you're welcome', but something in the way her eyes blinked revealed all the vulnerability she pretended to shed. So instead he just nodded. Gratitude spread through her face as she finally released his jacket sleeve. She took another drag from the cigarette before tossing it to the ground. She stood up with him and shook invisible dust from her own clothing. They both exchanged awkward coughs as they tried to reestablish normalcy between them.

"So about Santana…"

"What about her?" Britt responded sharp as ever. She had thought they had been talking about Santana the whole time while they were having their heart to heart.

Good thing she could fall right back into her attitude without much trouble. Puck rolled his eyes. "You heard Macklin. She can't stay at the hotel tonight."

Oh right. Brittany dropped her tone of voice. "She's definitely not. At least not until I find that little bitch who gave her the address to come here."

"I think Macklin's already sent someone to round the hotel kid up. But you're avoiding the subject of Santana."

"At least we both agree that she isn't going back to that hotel until this thing gets straightened out." Brittany's fingers fidgeted towards the cigarette pack in her jacket, but she stopped herself.

"So do you want her?"

"Nice loaded question, Noah."

"What?" He lifted his shoulders pretending to be innocent.

"I'm going to need the keys to your apartment."

"Sure-" Puck froze. "Wait. What?"

"I'm not taking her to my place. So I'm taking her to yours."

"But-"

"Just hand me the keys. My apartment's open so you should have no problem getting in."

Puck reached into his pocket and dug out the key chain to dangle it in the air in front of her. "How about you both come over tonight and I stay too. I don't want to get sick or killed by anything living in that apartment you call home."

"Fine." Brittany snatched the keys from the air. "But you're sleeping in the hall."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"It's either the hall or the balcony."

Puck groaned as he followed Brittany through the maze of cop cars and emergency vehicles. They both paused at the same time to watch the coroner's van drive away from the scene.

"I know." A pause. "No, I'm not reconsidering." She spoke more sternly. "I said, no. I'm staying here. It was personal before, but now it's a whole different kind of personal." Santana paced back and forth as far as the cord would allow her. Again Puck and Brittany shared a look between each other. Santana threw the radio back into the cruiser with a grunt and turned around right into Puck and Brittany.

"Good convo with the boss I take it?" Brittany teased with a smirk.

Santana sighed and looked back at the radio then back to Brittany. A slight coloring lit her cheeks. "Something like that."

"So I take it that you aren't going back to California even after this incident." Puck closed the door to the car.

"No, I'm staying to find the little fucker who is messing with me. I don't care what Terry says." Again Santana's cheeks flushed red hot.

"You okay?"

"Yes, Puck! And I'm getting sick of people asking. I'm fine now. I'm pissed, but I'm fine. I need someone to take me back to my room so I can fume, sleep, and then wake up tomorrow ready to catch this mother fucker."

"No can do, Lopez. Chief doesn't want you to go back to the hotel so you're stuck with us all night."

Santana opened her mouth to argue, but quickly closed it as she looked back and forth between Brittany and Puck.

Great.

* * *

Puck turned the key into the lock and opened the door to his apartment. It was simple. Nothing fancy, but it was certainly cleaner than Brittany's place. That was something he could be proud of. There weren't many pictures lining the walls; just a few of his family and some of Beth. Yes, he still got to see her occasionally. Shelby allowed him to visit whenever he felt the need to feel good about himself and the world outside of his job. They were good to him. Beth even called him Uncle Puck. It made him feel like he had accomplished one good thing in his life. At times, Quinn would come with him and they could marvel at Beth's beauty and her brilliant mind. Parents always believed their child would grow up to be the president. Puck knew, without a doubt, Beth would accomplish that and more.

"Welcome to my humble abode. Try not to destroy it." Puck added the last part as he looked at Brittany.

Santana lingered at the doorway. "This isn't a permanent thing, is it?"

"We just want to make sure you're safe. We can discuss what's going to happen tomorrow."

"Fine."

"How about you two take the bedroom. I've got the couch." Puck flipped his badge and keys onto the small table in the hallway. He moved through the apartment turning on lights to show them where the bathroom was, but neither woman had moved from the entrance.

"I'm taking the couch. Santana can have the bed." Britt said without looking at the brunette next to her.

"Why do I get the bed? I can sleep on the couch just as easily."

"Because you're the one who got fucked with today."

"I told you, I'm fine." Santana spoke sternly as she planted her hands firmly on her hips.

"I don't care what you told me. I know you. You're not fine. So take the bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

"Don't presume you know me now because we laughed a little bit and spent the day together."

"I'm not presuming anything. I'm telling you now that you're not okay." Brittany shot back.

Puck's jaw dropped as he turned around to see them fighting with each other like they were five years old. Now, no matter what either of them thought, Puck actually did know them. He instantly recognized this as a coping mechanism – they were picking a fight with each other because they needed to release the stress somehow. Inwardly, he groaned. They could release the tension all they wanted, but he needed some sleep.

"Great! Glad we can agree on something! I will be taking _my_ bed then since you both seem to not want it." Puck opened up the linens closet and pulled out sheets and some extra pillows. He threw them on the couch and the floor not caring how they landed. "I will be in _my_ bedroom if you need anything. You two can fight out who takes the floor and who gets the couch."

Both women stood there staring at Puck in disbelief as he slammed the door to his room and walked away. Wordlessly, they walked in opposite directions. Brittany took the sheets from the floor and began to cover the couch. When she had finished, she made herself a pallet on the floor a few feet away next to the coffee table. The blonde shrugged her jacket off and loosened her pants. Reverently, she placed her hat on top of her jacket and curled up into the blankets on the floor. Try as she might, Brittany couldn't find sleep no matter how hard she closed her eyes. Finally she opened her eyes to look at the bathroom door where Santana had disappeared.

"You okay?" Brittany called out.

"Yeah." The word muffled from the door.

"Would you both shut up already!" Puck called from his room. "There's some ice cream in the fridge if that's what women need to handle their feelings. I don't have any chick flicks so you'll have to do make do with my box set of Clint Eastwood."

Brittany couldn't repress the smile that softly unfolded as she heard a groan followed by a suppressed laugh from the bathroom door. Yeah, Puck was still an idiot sometimes. A loveable idiot, but an idiot all the same. "Shut it, Puckerman, or we'll take back the room with the bed."

The door to the bathroom finally opened and Santana emerged in the dull light. Brittany didn't want to make her uncomfortable, but she could easily recognize when someone had been crying - not that Brittany blamed her. Santana stood at the edge of the couch to overlook the set-up. Clearly, Brittany had won the battle of the couch by taking the floor before she had finished in the bathroom. Her dark eyes hovered over the sheets fitted into the contours of the couch and the pillow Britt had fluffed up for her. She panned to the woman sleeping on the floor and muttered "thank you". But Brittany didn't respond. They both had too much pride. Santana must have reached for the light switch next to the couch because the room went completely dark. Brittany laid there with her eyes open staring at the light fixture above.

It was hard to imagine that only a few hours ago she had just dropped Santana off at the hotel. In those few hours, it seemed like once again the Strangler had changed the nature of the game they were playing. It didn't seem fair.

"Are you-" Britt started to say but stopped herself. If she were in Santana's shoes, she wouldn't want people to keep asking her if she were okay. In fact, Britt would have already snapped.

"Yeah…" Santana spoke into the pillow. She'd already answered that question enough tonight from Macklin to Puck to Terry. She didn't want to hear it again from Brittany. She noticed that Brittany didn't have a pillow to speak incoherently into. Without hesitation, she threw one of the extras onto the floor for Brittany to use. "Here use this."

"Thanks." Brittany said as she reached out for the pillow, but she had a feeling that sleep would be hard to come by tonight. After all the excitement and anxiety, any normal person would probably just fall asleep right away. All Brittany could think about was Santana's face when she sat on the lip of that ambulance. She had looked so lost – so scared. The moment has shaken the P.I. So many months, maybe even years, had gone by since Britt had felt like that; so angry and at the same time, so protective. Thinking about it now, the blonde could feel her heart racing again, but she didn't want too upset Santana any more. Instead, she quietly spoke into the soft comfort of the pillow. "Good night…"

"Yeah, good night…"

* * *

"Look, obviously someone sent her to the body."

"Yeah, but it doesn't follow the M.O. of the the Strangler from four years ago! He never tried to contact us before, or lead us anywhere. This is totally different."

"But he did stop his activities for four years, perhaps something changed and this is his new way. Whatever the exact purpose behind the phone call, he wanted Santana to experience finding the body or he could have just as easily led her there and killed her."

"You know, I'm right here." Santana growled under her breath as the roundhouse of ideas floated between Brittany, Puck, Macklin, and few other detectives. Macklin had wanted to keep the meeting small in order to spare Santana more grilling from the entire department. "I wasn't going to be led anywhere or killed."

"We picked up the receptionist at the hotel. His story checks out. Unfortunately we can't trace anything back through the phone call and he said there was nothing distinguishing about the voice or the manner in which it was delivered. It seemed like a regular courtesy call." One of the senior detectives offered.

Macklin sat back in his chair with his fingers to his face trying to soak in the ideas pouring from the group. "You'll have to change hotels and switch to somewhere we can have surveillance on you at all times. I know you won't like it, but it's our only choice. Either that, or you have to stay with detective Puckerman."

"I'll take the hotel with the white van and a team of horny men with binoculars watching me dress and undress over Puck any day." Santana responded with her dry humor. Puck shrugged as if she had made the logical choice.

Brittany didn't seem as amused by the conversation. "You can move her as much as you want, but that still doesn't change the fact that everything's changed. He came after her. This is not the same killer. Not the same anything. This is a whole new territory."

"Or…" Puck interjected. "We didn't look at the case in the right light last time. Perhaps he has a habit of making contact with his victims before he kills them. We know he likes to chase them down before he kills. Why not make get a bigger power trip by manipulating them? In this case, he already knows Santana is involved in the case. Why not make her feel vulnerable and place her in the body of a victim by leading her to the scene of the murder? This could be an even bigger power trip for him."

Again, Brittany frowned. "But why Santana? She's only just returned to New York this week."

This time the brunette glanced to her right to keep Britt's face in the corner of her eye. Did she mean why wasn't _she_ the target of the Strangler? Is that what really bothered Brittany? That she wasn't chosen? The dark thought sent a shiver through her body. "So you're saying I could be his next target?"

This time Macklin shook his head. "What kind of time line does that give us?"

"It's varied." One of the other detectives said. "We've never had an accurate impression on the amount of time he spends observing his targets. Anywhere from 3-4 days to two weeks."

A silence settled around the table.

Eventually Macklin leaned forward. "Perhaps Puckerman has a point. I wasn't the head of the investigation last time around. A lot of oversight and mistakes led to one of the most embarrassing moments in this department's history. I said I wanted to reexamine the case from every angle. Perhaps we were missing something back then that has been crucial to understanding this killer."

"I wasn't here for that, but from what I've gathered, we still haven't tapped into our greatest resource from last time."

"She won't talk to us. I already tried to reach her at her house." Puck brushed the comment aside.

"Even if it could potentially save another girl's life?"

"I tried. Trust me. I pleaded with her, but she refused to even open the door. I tried just about everything, but she wants nothing to do with the department or the case." Puck sighed. "I don't know if I should push her or not, but then these two brought in Chester for questioning and I couldn't do a follow-up. Besides…she's been through enough."

"Felicia?" Brittany said under her breath. Her blue eyes darted to Santana before she looked back to Puck. "She wouldn't talk to you?"

"Well…" The same detective who had mentioned it continued. "After reading through the file, it seems likely that she wouldn't want to talk to a cop, but perhaps she would be willing to talk to the two women who saved her life?"

"Ms. Langen has been through a lot, but if wasn't for the investigative work of Ms. Lopez and Pierce…she would not be alive today. I think we have a place to look for answers next. I want you two on it. Now that we have this new angle to ask from, it might jar some memory from her that might have escaped when she was an emotional wreck. Compare last night's tactic with her experience before she was attacked."

Santana's eyes went down to the table underneath her perfectly crafted nails. Brittany now turned to look at the Latina immediately sensing something wrong. She didn't wait for her "partner" to respond. Brittany faced Macklin. "Not a problem. We can talk to Felicia and see if she has anything new to offer. We've done the interview thing together before and I can guarantee you that it won't end like the last one did."

"Cost me my cruiser…" Puck muttered under his breath. Brittany elbowed him beneath the table.

"Better not, Pierce, or I'll throw your ass in jail. But at least, that's the attitude I want to hear. Perhaps we can pinpoint this fucker before he causes anymore damage. It could be the best thing that's happened in this case so far that he's come after one of our own people."

* * *

**I did finish my one-shot! So if anyone is interested in some smut, I know it's been lacking in **_**Sirens (**_**sorry! Don't worry, it will come back eventually and I promise…it will be epic!), the story is **_**Playtime in MetaFiction Studio**_**. It's a little different, but I think it can be enjoyable. So you can get your fix there!**

**Also! I totally just saw that Brittany is going to be Batgirl which is like making my other one-shot of Britt as Batwoman canon! I'm like jumping around all excited! :D YES! One of my readers must be RMurphy! It's cool if you don't want to come forward and identify yourself, you may continue to use my plotlines for Glee! :D**

**(I just started classes again. Ugh. May we all commiserate together. :D)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry about the week delay with the update. Unfortunately, I have a feeling that I will be unable to post chapters with the same consistent frequency. I hate to do this, but I also will not allow the quality of my writing and installments to drop. So sacrifices have to be made. As a compromise, I will attempt to post longer chapters. But I can't promise anything. My semester is insane. I work everyday and I commute an hour to class three times a week at night. Therefore my free hours are few and far between. Please! Please be patient! **_**Sirens**_** is still my baby. **

**In other news, we have cause to celebrate as this is our tenth chapter! Yay! And **_**Sirens**_** officially has the most reviews for any of my stories! I feel super awesome! **

**One of my every chapter reviewers, Vero, pointed out that this story is getting more complicated. You better believe it! I've been thinking about this story for months before even writing the first words and trust me, it will get more complicated! ;)**

**Without further delay, the next part of…**

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 10**

Macklin dismissed the meeting and they all gathered their belongings. Brittany didn't bring anything except herself and her hat, but she lingered, fingering the lining. Her bright, clear eyes glanced from the dark material to the dark haired woman across the table. Puck stood near the door and watched the scene with an unreadable expression.

"Chief."

"Puckerman, walk with me."

"I have been reading up on press conferences and how to deal with them all morning."

Macklin sighed and shook his head. "Good, not that you'll need any of that."

"I'm sorry? I thought you said last night that you wanted me to be part of the release."

"The press conference is going to be short and sweet, Noah. I don't want to risk this investigation by blowing any information we have on our killer. Therefore, we keep it low and close to the vest. We suggest women travel in groups and avoid poorly lit streets and especially parks. We ask citizens-"

"Right." Puck cut him off with the wave of a hand. "I understand. Is there anything else you need me for, Chief? Should I be going with Brittany and Santana?"

"No, I said I wanted you here for the press, so I need you to show your face. I doubt Pierce will pull any of her usual stunts after last night, I think it hit a little too close to home…" Macklin spoke directly. Puck shuffled at the comment. The younger detective didn't want to admit that he had trouble sleeping last night. He had tossed and turned. Santana could have been that body on the ground last night. That thought alone had kept him awake. Thus the reason Puck was able to roll out of bed so early that morning to research press conferences. Macklin didn't necessarily comment on the look in Puck's eyes, but he did continue speaking. "I think it hit too close to home for all of us."

"I'll see you in my office later. I'll give you a call. Oh, make sure those two have a means of transportation that doesn't cost the taxpayers' money." Macklin gave Puck a small wink. "I think Ronny is still in the garage. I have a feeling my assistant still has the key in her desk somewhere. That should be good enough for those two."

* * *

Finally the room cleared.

"Santana…"

"Don't." She shoved her cell phone into her purse. It was the first time the lawyer hadn't worn a skirt to the precinct since her return to New York. Granted, she had borrowed a pair of slacks from Puck's lost and found. He had assured Santana that he washed all the clothes left there and after smelling the poor choice in lavender detergent, Brittany couldn't argue that the clothes weren't clean. The pants looked as if they had been her own as well as the light green top. Britt made a stop at her own apartment for a change of clothes. "We've got to find out where Felicia is living now."

"I'm sure Puck has the address since he was just there." Britt wanted to brush off Santana's sloppy attempt to change the subject and avoid the heaviness in the room. It wasn't that easy for Brittany. How close had the Strangler been to Santana last night? "I know you're sick of hearing this, but I don't think you're okay… and- I- just…"

Britt trailed off unsure how to tell Santana that she still worried about her. Her eyes dropped back to the brim of her hat.

Perhaps it was the swiftness in which the other woman looked away, or the away those blue eyes lidded without closure, but Santana shut her mouth before snapping at Britt. Her agitation ebbed and her dark eyes blinked hard. At one time, she had been able to read the blonde haired woman in less than a glance.

"Britt-" Santana shortened her name because it felt right in this intimate moment. "-I'm fine. Well…I'm not really fine, but I will be."

"But what if-"

"I can't afford to think about that or ever…" Santana said with a sternness in her voice to drive the point home.

This time Brittany's head whipped up. Her blue eyes locked onto Santana's with such ferocity it sent a shiver down the brunette's body. "I'll stop him before anything happens to you."

Shaken, Santana responded. "Nothing's going to happen."

* * *

"I know I broke your cruiser, but this is something like cruel and unusual punishment, Puckerman." Brittany frowned as she took the keys from Puck's hand and dangled them in the air. She looked to Santana hoping to get her partner – it was still strange to think of her in that term—to back her up. "I mean, you're the lawyer here, Santanta. Isn't that breaking like one of those constitution things or like the Bill of Rights? Do we have to be punished like this? Because if I recall, punishment can be a lot more pleasurable than—"

"Whoa!" Puck interjected before Brittany could complete that sentence. Even Santana had quirked her eyebrow towards the other woman curios as to where that train of thought would lead. Puck just didn't want to think of these two going at it and as he thought about it, he wasn't entirely sure that's where Brittany was going anyway. "I don't want to know. I do know that this is the only car we have available according to the chief. So, if I were you two, I wouldn't try to drive it into a brick wall or really anything except this nice and safe parking space here."

"Thanks, Noah." Santana spoke dryly.

"Yeah. Thanks, Noah." Britt mocked Santana's cordial thanks. The brunette flashed her a frown, but Brittany shrugged it off. "I guess we can leave in this fine chariot then. Tell Macklin thanks for nothing!"

"Britt!" This time Santana did direct her comment towards the flippant blonde.

"What?"

"Do you have a car?"

"No.." She responded rather sullenly.

"So, shut up and take the keys so we can get going." Santana turned to Puck. "Thanks again. We will call if something new develops from Felicia, but I doubt we will get anything. It's been four years and the department did their best trying to learn anything from her last time."

"Yeah, but-" Puck turned back with a smile. "They didn't send the two of you to question her."

"Whatever." Britt finally butted into the conversation without Santana's tagline from high school. "Let's get this over with."

The P.I. threw the driver's side of the car open and turned the engine on. Santana shrugged across the hood of the rusted Oldsmobile. The car looked as if it had survived the industrial revolution, but only because it looked like an old pile of metal and paint. It didn't roar to life at the insertion of the key, but instead sputtered to barely live. Great. Santana opened the passenger door with some difficulty. "We'll be in touch."

* * *

As they drove out of the city, neither of them spoke. Finally, Brittany turned on the radio to fill in the awkward silence between them. Expertly, her fingers danced around the stations trying to find something to fit their mood, but nothing caught her ear. As she passed the oldies station, she heard the chords for a Fleetwood Mac song. She left it alone for a moment. The words to _Gold Dust Woman_ started to come in, but before the interchange of melodies and harmonies could start between Nicks and Buchanan, Santana flipped the radio off.

Annoyed, Brittany snapped her head to look at the brunette for the first time since they started their drive. "What? I thought you liked Fleetwood Mac…"

The statement contained so many different connotations to their relationship. Sure, Santana had chosen _Landside_ as her first attempt to express her feelings for her best friend, but the connection went much deeper. She had chosen to serenade Brittany in one of the most intimate moments of her life in the choir room with only the piano man there to accompany her to another Mac song. And when they moved to New York and Rachel invited Santana to go singing with her, Songbird had been her chosen stage name. Sure, it wasn't one of _their _songs, but Britt didn't understand the violent way Santana's hand had quickly flipped off the radio.

"I did- I do-" San responded, but her dark eyes were already gazing out the passenger window onto the guardrails of the highway.

"So why did you turn it off?"

"I just can't anymore." Her response didn't encourage much comfort.

"Can't what?" Brittany asked with curiosity. "You can't Mac anymore? Or you can't sing? Because I just wanted to listen to the radio. This isn't a glee audition."

A soft smile turned the corner of her lips up as she tried to get Santana to smile, but the brunette didn't turn her gaze away from the window. Instead, she spoke to her own reflection. "I just don't anymore, okay?"

"Why?"

"I just don't." The curt answer cut through the car. At the same moment, Santana's hand flew back to the radio and flipped the dial to the old beat up car on. The song had finished during their discussion and the clear harmonies of Crosby, Stills, and Nash flowed from the speakers. "I don't care. Whatever. Keep the radio on if you want."

Brittany frowned, but didn't protest to the radio. If Santana wanted to be moody that was fine, but she wasn't going to sit in silence. The music washed over them. The dark eyed beauty remained stoic in her seat unable to turn towards Brittany. She understood that Britt had been trying to ease the tension between them, but it wasn't easy to acknowledge the gesture. If she had to analyze herself, Santana would admit that she was acting irrationally, but she didn't want to think rationally. She just wanted to suppress the anxiety that continued to build inside her chest. It had been hard sleep the night before. Flashes of Rachel's face and the girl from last night continued to assault her.

Fuck. She didn't even know the girl's name. She hadn't thought to ask and Macklin had kept the morning's meeting strictly to discussing their new plan of investigation. That girl must have a family, someone who cared about her, like Rachel did.

Like Felicia did.

She hadn't seen Felicia in so long. Had she been right to leave New York without saying good-bye to her? The young woman hadn't been her responsibility and yet the mere thought of seeing her sent a wave of guilt through her.

It took them an hour and half to leave the city and pull into Felicia's neighborhood. After the attack, Ms. Langen had moved back home with her parents and now lived only a few blocks away from where she had grown up. The city had left her with quite a few scars.

Ronny, the beat-up old police car, noisily died down as Brittany put on the brakes and turned him off. Santana roused herself from her position against the window and finally turned to her partner. This time they were both able to read the other as they sat there. Neither had seen Felicia in a long time.

"Ready for this?"

"Do we even know what we are asking, Brittany?"

"No idea, but we need something. We don't know how long till he strikes again." The unspoken statement that the Strangler's next target sat in the car with her.

"Right." Santana shook her head and readjusted the borrowed blouse. "Let's just talk to her. I wouldn't want to be hounded even after all these years."

"Talking…" Brittany frowned. She used to be good at that. Macklin hadn't been far off when he remarked that the P.I. could be rather rough during standard procedures like questioning a neighbor about suspicious activity. Years spent on her own had solidified her belief that no one could be trusted. Not even herself. "Maybe you should take the lead on the talking part."

"That was the plan." Santana said with a shrug. For a moment, the heaviness between them lifted and Santana couldn't resist throwing the blonde a playful wink. "I did see you talking at the bar the other night. It didn't look pretty for the poor man you were with."

Santana opened her door and walked out of the car.

"Wait. You weren't looking at me." Britt said with confusion. At least, she didn't remember Santana watching her while she had been drinking and shooting billiards at the Ruffed Grouse. But San had already exited the car. An amused huff escaped Brittany's lips as she pursued Santana up the stairs of Felicia's house. Maybe this round of questioning would go better than Brenda and Chester.

That had been an absolute mess.

Santana pressed the doorbell and took point at the entrance. They stood in opposite places from the last time they had worked together. This time, Santana leaned against the doorframe, but without the same arrogance Britt had displayed for Brenda. Her body, still in great shape, leaned in an easy, graceful, statuesque pose. Brittany stood at the bottom of the stairs and readjusted her hat. The lining on the inside was in the early stages of fraying as some of the tight stitches were pulled out and hanging loosely. She would have to get it repaired eventually. Britt stuffed the hat back on her head after she fluffed her long locks of golden hair around her face. She pulled at the tie around her neck to readjust it.

Still gotta look good.

Within seconds, the heavy wooden door opened and a face appeared through the screen dividing Santana and Felicia. The woman asked hesitantly. "Can I help you?"

Her eyes went from the two women standing at her door to the old car with a single siren on the roof with suspicion. Santana cleared her throat, but Brittany could hear her nerves rattling because she felt the same way.

"I don't know if you remember me-us, Felicia, but we need your help." Santana started unsure where to proceed.

"Santana? Brittany?" Felicia pushed open the screen door to see them better. She stepped into the light of the day. A scarf wrapped around her throat despite the fact that while breezy, no one in their right mind would be wearing a winter accessory. Santana remembered her with longer, darker hair, much like Rachel's, but Felicia had gotten in chopped around her ears to frame her face and had lighter brown highlights now. She looked good. And despite the tragedy that happened four years ago, Felicia stood dressed as if she had been outside in the garden. She wore cut-off jeans and an old, but serviceable tank-top. Dirty and well-worn garden gloves were stuffed into her pockets. From a first glance, no one would suspect that she had survived a terrible assault only a few years ago – except for that grey scarf loosely tied around her neck. "I should have known they would send someone else, but…I just didn't expect them to send you two."

Santana wasn't sure if Felicia sounded disappointed by the observation or somewhat relieved to recognize the women.

"We would have called to warn you, but we were afraid you would turn us away like you did to the detective the department sent." Brittany said very nonchalantly.

Felicia shook her head and gestured them to come in. "No, I would never turn you two away. I had no idea the case had become so serious they had called you in."

"Yeah, they called everyone they could. Detective Puckerman would have filled you in on the details had you given him a few minutes." Brittany continued.

"I thought it was just another one of those bogus leads that would end up being nothing." Felicia held open the door to allow them to enter her household. It had all the things a typical house would have – furniture, pictures, a few misplaced items like bags and jackets in the hallway. A quick inventory of the foyer revealed that Felicia didn't live alone. For that, Santana smiled softly. Perhaps she had escaped the horror of the Strangler. "Sometimes, they would send an officer to review the case or to even ask to assess the department's action at the time of the attack. When he asked me that, I laughed in his face and threw him out of my house. I said I never wanted to see another one of them around here anymore. So when I saw that detective at my door, I treated him pretty cruelly. I had no idea…"

"You couldn't have known. We didn't even know they had sent someone to see you or we would have requested to be here. I am sincerely sorry about the way they handled the case, Felicia." Santana took the offered seat on the couch.

"You two have nothing to be sorry for. Your actions had nothing to do with theirs." She paused with a frown as both Britt and Santana took their seats on the couch next to each other. "Let me get you something to drink."

She left the room.

"You gonna be able to handle this?" Brittany asked quietly under her breath.

"What choice do I have?"

"None."

"There's your answer." Santana spoke through gritted teeth. She knew that Brittany was only trying to look out for her, but the extra care and attention only seemed to agitate her. Why did Britt have to care now?

Felicia returned with a few glasses of ice water which she placed on the coffee table between them. Silence settled in the remaining seat in the room. But it wasn't awkward, it was needed. They sipped at their water and waited for the first person to speak.

"I assume this isn't good news." Felicia ventured.

"No. The Strangler case has reopened."

Felicia's body tensed. "I knew it had to be bad for you both to show up."

"We wouldn't bother you if we didn't think you could help in some manner." Santana continued.

But Brittany felt as if Santana wasn't enough forthcoming. "The Strangler has made an attempt to contact Santana directly and we didn't recall him making that same kind of effort the last time he was on the loose. So we felt it would be pertinent to the case to ask the only other person with experience."

"I see…" Felicia's brown eyes lingered on the drops of perspiration running down the length of the glass in her hand.

"I know it's difficult, but could you please recount what you remember. I know you've done this many times, but it's been a few years and perhaps something will jog your memory this time that hasn't before."

Slowly, Felicia replaced the glass to the table. Her hands ghosted over the surface before they settled on her collarbone. The scarf which seemed so out of place in her outfit only seemed harder to ignore. The grey material of the scarf would have been dull against a winter coat, but Santana's eyes lingered. "You don't mind if I take this off? I feel comfortable with you two around. Sometimes people can't stand to see the sight of it. At least without making me feel hideous…"

Britt shook her head no and Santana nodded that she could remove it. "Please, we want you to feel comfortable." The two women were mesmerized as they watched Felicia's garden worked fingers unwind the material from around her neck. As the grey cloth loosened, scar tissue began to appear around her would-be delicate neckline.

The pink caught Santana's dark eyes first - thick jagged lines. The way it stretched and seemed so natural and yet so unwelcomed on Felicia's otherwise perfectly unblemished skin. Santana could feel heat and cold chills rushing up and down her body at the scars roping around the other woman's neck. Her vision blurred. The pink darkened and spread even if she knew it was all a trick of her eyes, Santana couldn't help it as she instinctively recoiled from the sight. Last night had been hard to handle and now seeing Felicia… maybe she should have taken a day to collect herself. Pink skin.

Red. Red.

Santana's eyes clouded glued to Felicia's throat. She knew that she shouldn't stare, but it was impossible to turn away.

Red. Red.

* * *

_Red. _

_Red._

_Brittany's eyes were flashing red as she burst through the police officer on duty at the front desk of the precinct. Well, perhaps she didn't 'burst' through anything, but she sure was making a scene. In fact, the blonde had been making a scene for the past few days._

_Ever since…her death._

_"Let me just talk to one of the fucking detectives!" Brittany pounded her fist on the counter over and over again with every word. Santana frowned, but remained hanging in the background. At the thought of Rachel, her stomach started to turn. A hot flash erupted all over her body and flew to her cheeks. Internally, she struggled to not puke on the tile floor._

_She was fine. She was fine. She was fine. She was fine. She was fine. Focus. Focus. Focus. Focus. Focus._

_The mantra continued over and over again in her head. Over and over again until eventually the colors receded back to their original size and proportions. She shook her head to clear the fog completely. Her dark eyes sharpened and returned to the police station. Brittany was struggling against a few sets of arms trying to restrain her._

_"Let her go! Leave her alone!" Santana surged forward. She latched onto the closest officer's arm. He tried to shrug her off, but the look in Santana's eyes made him pause. He relaxed his grip on Brittany. "She doesn't mean any harm. We're just here to talk to Senior Detective Macklin. He gave us his card." _

_Santana pulled out the officer's card with a small hand written note on the back that said 'don't hesitate to contact me.' The officer flipped the card over in his hand a few times. "Detective Macklin is in. I will see if he's willing to meet with you. But I have to detain your friend for the safety of the station."_

_The word 'detain' sent all sorts of imagery and warning flags through Santana's mind – none of it pleasant. But they needed to speak to Macklin as he was the only one willing to speak to them in the department as more than mourners of the deceased. The operator continued to transfer their calls to a tip line when they said they had information about the Strangler. When they identified themselves as friends of one of the victims, the tip line transferred them to the department's government paid counseling services. They needed to get a hold of someone – anyone with authority. "Fine. Whatever it takes."_

_Britt's blue eyes whipped around to meet Santana's in disbelief. They spoke volumes – really? She was going to let the police handcuff her?_

"_I hope you understand, miss. This is for the safety of everyone here. We can't have people making a scene in a place where the public is supposed to feel safe."_

"_Just get it over with then." Brittany growled, but cooperated as she stuck her hands out for the officer to gently click the cold metal against her skin. _

_Apologetically, Santana moved towards her girlfriend. "I'm sorry baby, but it's the only way."_

_She pressed her lips softly to Brittany's cheek and the blonde instantly became compliant. "Okay. I mean they have to listen to us right?"_

"_Yes."_

_The officer led Brittany in cuffs with Santana following close behind towards one of the interrogation rooms. "Please, have a seat and I will see if Detective Macklin is available."_

"_I thought you said he was." Brittany growled again, but the officer had shut the door choosing to ignore the comment. _

"_Baby…" Santana cooed from across the table. "B, we're not going to get anywhere if you keep trying to barge yourself on the police. Let's just tell him what we have and see if he can use it. I mean, it could be nothing… they do this for a living so they will know if it's a legit lead or not."_

"_I just want to get this guy. You know? I think we can get him, San. We need to get him for Rachel, you know?" Brittany practically pleaded with those baby blues. Santana stiffened at the name, but shook her head in assent. She did know._

_The door to the interrogation room opened to admit a reasonably younger looking Macklin. He didn't have much hair on his head, but his beard glistened a healthy dark brown. This case would eventually cause most of it to gray until it would be the familiar salt and pepper. He was plump, but not quite as large and his eyes didn't have as many lines. With a delicate touch, he closed the door softly behind him. "Miss Lopez and Miss Pierce, I heard that you wanted to talk to me. If I remember, you were both friends of Rachel Berry."_

"_Yes." They both said at the same time._

"_Then I thank you both for responding to my invitation to talk to me when you felt ready for it. I know this hasn't been an easy week for either of you. I just want to assure you of the department's dedication to finding and stopping this killer. I know what it's like to lose a loved one. I can't offer the type of comfort you are seeking, but I do have a card for the grief center." He sat down and began his spiel pulling out a business card with a number the two women had already been directed to multiple times. _

"_Save it." Britt spat in anger. _

"_Brittany!" Santana yelled at her. The blonde leaned back into her seat pulling at the hand cuffs around her wrists. Satisfied that Brittany wouldn't be lunging herself at the detective, Santana turned to him. "Look, we've already been sent to that grief center about twenty times this week. We can mourn after we catch the fucker who did this. The reason we came to see you today is because we wanted to offer our services to finding this guy. We were very close to Rachel and Brittany runs an investigating business on the side."_

_Macklin leaned back in his chair allowing the Latina to continue talking. His hands absently stroked at the thick hair on this chin. "And what would you have to offer?"_

_Brittany decided talking politely would get her further, so she respectively answered his question. "We were watching Rachel doing some daily routines and stuff for one of our friends. Not like in a stalker way, but he did ask us to follow her around just to figure out where she was going at night. We never really found anything too unusual, but we did think for awhile she was meeting with some mysterious man. But we only ever saw him in the distance near her so we dismissed it after awhile because we followed him and he was hanging around another girl. After…" She paused. "After Rachel, I thought about it. What if that had been the killer? What if we were following around the man who killed her and we didn't know about it or do anything about it?"_

_Now Brittany couldn't go on. She hung her head and fought off the urge to cry. Macklin frowned as he processed her words. It was difficult to assess these types of situations. "Could you identify him or describe him to one of our sketchers?"_

"_Unfortunately, he was always hooded. And like Brittany said, he wasn't exactly around her. He was always in the shadows. We thought he was just trying to keep their relationship private or something. It was odd. Besides, when we followed him one night, he was doing the same thing with another girl. We noted his movements, but we brushed it off. We wanted to make sure, so we followed them a few more nights. We were going to approach –" Santana couldn't say her name. "—her about him when we got the chance, but…we never did."_

"_So you think you were following him around? Do you have anything else you could offer us?"_

"_Well, if he was the killer, he was following around that other girl we saw. Maybe she would be his next victim…" Brittany offered._

_Again, Macklin didn't look too pleased, but it was a better response than they had previously received from both the tip line and the counseling center. "It's an interesting theory. I understand why you would want to feel some sort of responsibility to your friend, especially since you believe you saw her killer and didn't do anything. Believe me, I sympathize. But sometimes we can insert ideas into our memories as a way to cope with the loss of a loved one. I also understand that you are an investigator, so I would never brush off your hunch. I will speak to my commander about this. Give me a few minutes."_

_Macklin stood up and exited from the interrogation room. Brittany waited till the door closed before she yanked on the chains connecting her wrists to the chair underneath her. "He doesn't believe us. This is bullshit."_

"_Britt, I know we want this to be the end, but you have to admit that we probably do sound crazy to a police officer." Santana sighed and reached across the table. Her fingers ran up and down Brittany's wrist to try and ease the strain of the bindings. "At least he is going to talk to his superior about it. We can catch him, I know it. And I have a good feeling about this Detective Macklin. He seems genuine. We can trust him."_

_Brittany only nodded. Silence settled between them as Santana continued to stroke Brittany's hand. Finally, the door opened again admitting only Macklin, but neither girl was disappointed. _

"_Miss Lopez and Miss Pierce, I spoke to the chief. I had to convince him that you were more than just two mourning friends looking to assuage your own feelings of remorse, but in the end I told him that you were both sincere. He said he would send someone to follow out the pattern you observed. Do you have your notes from when you said you saw him stalking another girl?"_

"_Yes, of course." Santana pulled out her briefcase with Brittany's notes and handed them over. "He will send a patrol car? Will that be enough?"_

"_It will be an undercover cop car – unmarked. That way it won't tip off the killer, if it is indeed him."_

"_What if he doesn't strike tonight? How long is your chief willing to wait for him?"_

"_Now, I understand that you both believe this is the killer, but I imagine that the chief can't keep sending a man for weeks, so it will have to be reassessed every day on the chances of the killer striking. I think you'll understand we don't wish any more harm to happen, so it will be a blessing if this other young woman is safe."_

"_We watched them a few times. She sticks to mostly the same schedule, so you should be able to find her easily."_

_Macklin finally realized they had cuffed Brittany to the chair. He shook his head and crossed the room. After unlocking her, he stepped back and held the documents up from Santana. "Again, ladies, I want to thank you for your hard work and dedication to your friend. Her memory is blessed by such love. I might not be the one to use this information to watch that young woman, but I want you to know, I will have a special interest to make sure she is protected."_

"_Thank you." Santana nodded her head as she wiped away a stray tear drop. "Thank you for listening to us."_

_Britt shook her head in agreement as she stood next to Santana. "Thank you."_

* * *

"_I don't care what the detective said. I just want to make sure we don't ever make that mistake again." Brittany said as she stuffed her binoculars into a sack before throwing the whole thing into the backseat of the car. Santana shuffled at the passenger side door. Her thoughts bounced around. She understood what Brittany's statement only skirted around. "I just want to make sure someone is watching her. Like we should have been watching Rachel…"_

_Guilt._

_So much fucking guilt._

_They were supposed to watching Rachel for Kurt when she was killed. It had been a joke. Just a stupid thing to find out where she was sneaking off to. How were they supposed to know that it was for real? How could they have known they should have been paying closer attention? _

_Fuck._

_Fuck. _

_Fuck._

"_Fine. I'm coming with you." Santana finally said. _

_Brittany looked up from all the things she was packing. "I didn't even think that was a question, partner."_

* * *

"Can I get you something more to drink?" Santana blinked to clear her vision, but it wasn't clearing. Nothing seemed okay. She nodded weakly, but her eyes remained on Felicia's scarred throat. Time might have given her new skin, but it didn't heal all wounds.

Red.

_Red._

* * *

"_Brittany! Go! Oh fuck! Oh Jesus! Just go! I've got her!" Santana screamed as she ran towards the woman lying on the ground in the middle of the alleyway. Her sneakers hit the cement as she skidded to a stop over top of the prostrate body. Dark hair spread around the ground and mixed with blood pouring generously from her neck. The blonde paused next to Santana for a moment - her mouth agape at the sight of a life literally bleeding away beneath her. For a split second she considered bending down to help. But Santana shoved her off. Her voice cracked as she cried. "Go!"_

_Brittany ran after the figure that had only moments ago been standing over the woman's body with something sharp. Santana couldn't afford to watch her lover run after the would-be killer. A woman's life literally laid in her hands. _

"_Oh fuck. Please don't die. Oh fuck. Oh fuck." She hesitated for only a moment longer before she pushed her hands forward to the woman's slashed neck. Blood quickly coated her. She shuddered, but didn't flinch away. The woman's eyes were rolled back. She wasn't conscious, but Santana still spoke to her. "Please please don't die. Please don't die. If you can hear me, don't die, Rachel. Please don't die." She didn't even realize she had said Rachel's name. Santana could barely think clearly. _

"_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" Santana kept pressure around the girl's throat unsure if she was helping or making it worse, but she needed to do something. She pulled back with her right hand. It was covered and dripping in the woman's blood. Without stopping, she shoved it saturated in blood into her pocket to fish out her cell phone. _

_9-1-1_

"_Pick up! Pick up! Please keep breathing. Hello! Oh thank god! You need to send an ambulance right away. There's been an attack and she's dying. Fuck she's dying. Hurry!" Santana quickly gave the operator the street name they were on before she dropped the phone from her ear. It clattered to the ground lifelessly. The operator had wanted her to stay on the line, but suddenly Felicia's eyes blinked and rolled back to position. In that moment, Santana knew the woman would die. She would be the last thing she ever saw._

_But Felicia kept breathing. Shreds of her throat moved underneath Santana's hands, but her chest never stopped rising and falling in that rhythmic pattern. Brittany came panting back around the same time the sirens could be heard roaring down the street. Breathless, she pointed down towards where she had tried to pursue the attacker. The first patrol men ran off in that direction. The EMTs arrived next. They ran over to Santana and the woman on the ground. _

_Gingerly, they reached for Santana's hands. But the brunette was frozen in shock unable to release her precious hold on the Felicia's throat. _

"_What's your name?" A deep voice asked her, but she couldn't respond. She just kept shaking her head holding back tears as she watched the life ebbing from the woman beneath her. _

"_Her name's Santana." Brittany crouched down next to her. She could see her girlfriend's struggle. Her chest heaved knowing the pain and emotions that had to be tearing Santana apart. Lovingly, she placed her hand on Santana's shoulder and stroked her gently. "San, you need to let the medics do their work. She's going to be okay. But you need to let her go, okay? Please, trust me?"_

_The medic began to inch closer to the body and Santana to take over where her hands were finally relinquishing their hold. "Santana, you've done an incredible job, but we need to take it over from here. You've kept her alive this long. Let us do the rest of the work."_

_Santana nodded a few more times still unable to look away from Felicia's face, but she did move away. Brittany pulled her up by her hand and into her body. The medics instantly began working on the woman to stop the bleeding and stabilize her for transport. _

_Sirens could be heard throughout the entire street now._

_Santana buried her face into Brittany's chest. Blood smeared all over their clothes. More officers and emergency personnel covered the street. The yellow caution tape unrolled, marked the scene of the crime. Brittany continued to hold the shaking Santana. But the sight of a balding man caught her eye. Rage flared deep within her. _

_Macklin._

_She released Santana and leaned her against a wall as she stormed towards the detective. "You said this wouldn't happen! You fucking promised us that you would watch her! You said this wouldn't fucking happen! How could you let this happen!?"_

_Macklin turned around stunned to see Brittany charging towards him, but he didn't grow indignant at her tone of voice. In fact, a shadow of regret and shame crossed his face as he shook his head in shared commiseration. He spoke mostly to himself, but the words were loud enough for Brittany to hear. "I didn't know. I thought there would be a car watching her. He assured me that he would send someone." _

"_Your assurances mean nothing! Look what's happened!" Brittany pointed towards the ambulance now driving through the barriers and police tape. _

"_Miss Pierce, I swear to God, I truly believed that someone would be watching her. He promised me."_

_Brittany took another step towards him, ready to tear into him. But a voice pulled her back. _

"_Brittany?" Santana called softly. The brunette stood at the entrance of the alleyway with her hands held up. Her dark eyes stared at the drying blood all the way up to her forearms. _

"_Dear Lord…" Macklin muttered behind his beard._

"_I'm here." Brittany shot Macklin one more glare before she rushed back over to Santana. More medics saw the scene and accompanied Brittany to help Santana, fearing that she too might be injured. They clung tight to each other while the emergency responders worked around their embrace. _

Santana shivered on Felicia's couch as she vividly recalled how vulnerable and secure she felt at that moment when Brittany had held her close. Her dark eyes momentarily broke from Felicia's throat and rose to meet her dark eyes.

* * *

_The medics had wanted Santana to go to the hospital to check up on her. It was stark white in the room. The only color that stood out was the black of Brittany's leather jacket. The lack of color actually comforted the woman. After all the blood, Santana didn't want to see color for a long time. All she wanted was to close her eyes and sleep for a long time, but it was hard to close her eyes and not see either Felicia or Rachel's face. The only thing that seemed real was Brittany, who sat by her bedside with her hand on her lover's. It was a welcomed touch. _

"_When do you think they are going to release me?"_

"_I don't know, San, but they can't keep us in here. I need to find that son of a bitch, Macklin. We didn't get to finish our conversation."_

_And just like that, Santana's sense of comfort in her lover's hands vanished. _

"_Do you know if she's okay? Didn't they say her name was Felicia?"_

_Brittany shook her head. "Yeah, I think that was her name."_

_Santana's voice pitched higher in concern, "Was?"_

"_No, don't worry; I'm sure she is fine. No one's come in here for an update so I assume she's still in surgery."_

"_B…what happened?" Santana turned into Brittany's gaze. _

"_He outran me. I just couldn't catch him."_

"_He outran you?" Santana shook her head. It seemed hard to believe. They were both in incredible shape after years of cheerleading and now their steady work out sessions together. _

_The doctor entered the room with a chart in his hand. "Miss Lopez, thank you for waiting so patiently. We wanted to make sure you were okay before you released you. And the chief of police requested that you be delayed for a few minutes. I am sorry about that. But I can assure you that you will leave with a clean bill of health."_

"_But what about the other girl? Felicia?"_

_The doctor looked down at the chart in his hand before facing Santana's eyes. But he wore a very small smile. "You most definitely saved her life, Miss Lopez. If she recovers from the trauma of surgery then she will have you to thank for keeping her alive before the paramedics arrived on the scene. She was very lucky you two came along when you did. She is just getting out of her second surgery right now and she's still in critical care so you will be unable to visit her for a few days."_

_A sigh of relief escaped her lips. "Good. And thank you." Santana and Brittany rose to exit the room after the doctor, but they only got a few steps through the hallway before they were swamped with news reporters, cameras, and flashing lights._

"_How does it feel to be hero?"_

"_Did you know the girl?"_

"_What are your names?"_

"_How did you find the girl?"_

"_Did you sustain any injury from fighting with the assailant?"_

_Brittany gripped Santana's hand tighter as they pushed through people trying to escape, but they just crowded closer. "Britt…"_

"_Where did they come from? Please, we're tired. Just let us get through."_

"_Clear the way!" A voice boomed out in the hallway and the questions stopped for a moment. An older, harder man than Macklin stepped through the throng towards the women. His eyes were hard and ice cold with little remorse. "Allow the two private investigators to get through."_

_Those words piqued the interest of the crowd. _

"_Investigators? Have they been working with you?"_

"_Are they on the city payroll?"_

"_How long has the department been using outside contractors for this case?"_

"_I can answer all your questions about the two investigators as long as you allow them to go home and get some sleep. They did the city and most certainly this department proud tonight."_

_How could he be saying any of that? Brittany growled as she took a step closer to the chief of police who had assured Macklin someone would be watching Felicia. Under her breath, she whispered to him. "You fucking prick. You could have prevented this, if you would have listened to us."_

"_You're working for me now. So you shut your fucking mouth and smile for these reporters. I will see you in the station tomorrow." He spoke with a matched level of ferocity in his voice before he allowed Brittany and Santana to walk past him. _

"_No, we did not catch the perpetrator of this heinous crime, but with the help of two of the finest investigators in the city, we were able to save the life of a young woman tonight. While, it doesn't offer us a definitive end to this murder, with the help of these young women we are one step closer to reestablishing safety back to our streets. Miss Lopez and Miss Pierce have been working in tandem with the department and we wish to continue our partnership during the rest of this investigation. We will catch him and send a message that our city is not to be messed with." He stuffed his hand back on his grey head and turned away. "Thank you and that's all for now."_

_Brittany's hands wrapped around Santana's waist as the blonde led her away from the commotion. _

* * *

"Thank you for letting me take it off. People don't like to be made to feel uncomfortable."

"Of course not. It's doesn't bother us." Santana said softly in sincerity. Her vision cleared.

"So what can I do for you two?" Felicia asked

"We know you've gone over your story thousands of times, but we were wondering if you might not have told the officers something four years ago. I know you were angry at the department for blatantly ignoring our tip. Perhaps there was something you were missing…"

"Like I told the officers after I woke up, I remember almost nothing. I was on my way back from the gym when I heard someone following me. I started to walk faster then I heard the footsteps matching my pace so I decided to run for it. And in that terrible moment I knew someone was running after me. When I went to turn around to see who it was, I tripped and fell down where you two found me. Before I could get up, I felt hands around my neck. Someone strong flipped me over and I blacked out. The next thing I remember is hearing Santana telling me not to die and then waking up in the hospital." Felicia finished filling in the gaps both women had already heard multiple times during the course of the investigation.

"Specifically before the actually attack, do you remember anything strange during the week?" Brittany interjected. "Santana was given a message at her hotel room and led to the next victim. Was there at anytime before the attack that you were led somewhere or you felt someone following you?"

"Are you okay?" Felicia leaned forward and blinked her brown eyes into Santana's own. They had shared a connection since that moment in the alleyway. It was something they hadn't talked about, but knew. For that second, Felicia had become conscious as Santana held her throat together.

* * *

_Three days after the attack, Felicia finally woke up. As requested, one of the nurses had telephoned Miss Lopez. Now that Brittany and Santana were officially part of the investigation and on the city payroll according to Macklin's superior, Chief Garlow, they could exercise certain rights within limitations. The only one Santana had used so far had been an attempt to get in contact with Felicia. Watching a woman die and literally holding her life in hand had a way of affecting Santana. She needed closure. She needed forgiveness from Rachel, but since that was impossible, her subconscious had chosen Felicia as the proxy. _

_Brittany, on the other hand, had taken full advantage of Garlow's blunder. Since he needed to cover his ass and pretend he had been working with Britt and Santana, she could now get access to real police reports and exercise new power in tracking down leads on the Strangler. She lit a fire under the department and worked twice as hard as any detective. The best word to describe her passion was insatiable. _

_Santana had tried to match her intensity, but…_

_Every time she looked down at her hands, they turned various shades of red until she had to stuff them into her pockets or underneath a table. _

_She knocked softly at the door. _

_But there was no response. So Santana went to walk away, but something clattered from beyond the door. Cautiously, she pushed the door open a crack. Felicia sat up in her bed looking expectantly at the door, but with thick bandages wrapped around her neck. _

_Santana felt so stupid. _

_Of course she wouldn't be able to speak; her vocal chords and most of her throat had been slashed. The doctors had pronounced the surgery a miracle and even the fact that she didn't slip into a coma as an even greater miracle. _

_Now that she entered the room, Felicia indicated with her hands for Santana to enter. Awkwardly, the brunette moved forward and presented the woman the bouquet of flowers she had bought from a florist on her street. She had never met Felicia, so she didn't know what kind to buy her. Luckily, the store carried a variety with multiple colors. Santana found an empty vase in the room, although it was difficult, and placed the flowers in them. Without anything in her hand and Felicia's inability to speak, Santana felt even more uncomfortable. _

"_I don't know why I came here. I feel so stupid. I just wanted to talk, but obviously I wasn't thinking. So I will just go now. I'm really sorry for disturbing you." Santana went to turn away, but stopped. Felicia had whacked her hand on the side of the bed to make a noise to stop Santana's retreat. The short woman turned back to the bed. _

_Felicia scrambled for a piece of paper from the nightstand next to her bed. The nurses had left her a black marker and lots of paper so she could communicate with visitors. _

_Possessed, Felicia frantically scribbled some words on the blank page and held it up for Santana to read. _

_It read:_

"_It's you. I know your voice. You saved me."_

_Santana choked at the words and held a hand to her mouth as she nodded. "I didn't know you could hear me."_

_Felicia quickly pulled out a new page to write on: "I will never forget your voice. It was the only thing I could hear."_

"_I'm sorry I got there too late." Now tears streamed from the corners of Santana's eyes. _

_But Felicia shook her head 'no' and gave her a confused look before writing on the pad again. "You arrived just in time."_

_Santana shook her head and breathlessly responded. "I wish I could have done more."_

_Again, Felicia responded on the pad. "You saved my life." _

_Santana visited Felicia every day before her classes to make sure she was recovering and doing well. At times, she would read to her or just talk. Since Felicia was unable to talk, she made quite the listener. In that very brief time, they swiftly became friends and the hospital visits became the only stable and constant part of her day. The two women were each other's support group after such a horrible and traumatic experience. Those visits the only things keeping Santana sane even as it seemed the whole world was falling apart. _

_The last day she saw Felicia had been about a week after she had been admitted to the hospital. Felicia asked Santana to just talk about her childhood. Felicia had started to cling to sound of Santana's voice as a result of the attack and loved to hear her talk about anything. Santana was telling Felicia about how she and Brittany had joined Glee club together in high school as a way to spy on the club for their cheerleading coach. _

"_Apparently, extra-curricular activities are a hard sell in Ohio so there Sue wanted to make sure she was getting the most funding. Therefore, the Glee club had to go down in a fiery blaze. Little did she know that Britt, Quinn, and I fell in love with all the singing and dancing. On the Cheerios, I had always played second to Quinn, but in Glee, I could easily out sing her and everyone there."_

_Felicia smiled as she wrote on the notepad. "You sing too?"_

_At this question, Santana froze. She used to sing with Rachel, but…The thought of Rachel reminded her of the intense guilt and pain deep in her chest. Coming to visit Felicia made it subside for a short time. Santana looked down at her hands before whispering. "I used to…" _

_Felicia saw the pain her question had caused and frowned as Santana grew silent. She needed to keep hearing her voice. It was a natural sedative. She wanted to make Santana feel better – feel safe with her. Instinctively, Felicia pushed herself forward from the pillows on the bed and pressed a soft kiss to those luscious pouting lips. Fire flared throughout her body as the object of her affections responded in kind. For a half second, she could feel Santana's lips meet hers. _

_But it didn't last. Santana withdrew violently. She slid her chair back and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I-can't- I'm so sorry, but this isn't right."_

_That had been the last time Santana had visited Felicia. The attack and the moment Santana had saved Felicia's life had snowballed into a mix up of feelings. Felicia wanted to feel safe and transferred that feeling to her savior. Santana had wanted to suppress the whirlwind her life was spiraling down into by visiting Felicia; she could forget about the case for an hour and just talk about anything. It had been therapeutic, but allowed her to repress the real feelings of guilt and pain. _

_That same night, she told Brittany what had happened. The blonde barely acknowledged the moment; she needed to follow a lead. On the way out the door, Brittany turned around. "I don't want you going back there."_

_Santana nodded with a smile. But after the door closed, she broke down crying, knowing she was truly alone. Felicia offered escapism, which wasn't healthy. _

_And Brittany?_

_The private investigator couldn't help. Brittany was too busy trying to compensate for her own emotions. Mostly, Santana didn't want to admit she felt like she was losing her best friend and lover._

* * *

A light blush crept up her cheeks at the intimate way in which Felicia asked the question. "I wasn't hurt."

"That wasn't what I asked."

"I know…"

Brittany knew that Santana had gone to visit Felicia a few times in the hospital after the attack. She also knew that Felicia had made a move on Santana. At the time, she had been so caught up in leads and working at the police station that she had brushed it off. She had been so foolish to let Santana slip away. Now, an older and jaded Brittany frowned at the exchange. "Do you recall anything?"

Felicia shook her head and looked back at the blonde with a knowing smile. "You two were together then, weren't you?"

Both women stiffened at the question and risked a sideways glance to each other. "Yes."

"You're not anymore?"

"No…" Brittany answered.

"But you still care for each other. I can see that. I didn't know at the time, Brittany, or I would have never tried to kiss Santana. You both were the reason I survived and I was frightened and lost after the attack." Felicia gave her a soft smile. "But no, nothing like that ever happened to me."

"Thank you for your time, Felicia." Uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, Brittany adjusted her hat and started to get up from her seat. She didn't want to be reminded how foolish and reckless she had been with the only person who ever cared about her the way Santana did back then.

"But-" Felicia raised her hand to stop Brittany from leaving. "I think I can offer something. I know it's not much. There was a time I felt like I was being followed the week before the attack. I didn't tell the officers at the time because I didn't want them to treat me as a special type of crime just because I was leaving a gay bar. I wanted justice without labels."

"What do you mean?"

"The Tuesday night before the attack, I went to a gay bar with one of my friends. It was just for fun, but as we were leaving, I just had that feeling…you know what that feeling is…when you know someone is watching. I looked around, but I didn't see anyone, but it's hard to forget that feeling."

"Do you know the name of the bar?"

"Reckloose"

Now it was time for both Brittany and Santana to look at each other.

"You know it?"

"You could say that." Brittany answered and stood up. Santana followed suit. "One more thing…"

Brittany moved forward and pulled out her wallet from her pants. "Do you recognize this woman?"

In her hand, Brittany held out a picture of Rachel for Felicia to observe. After a few seconds, she nodded her head 'no'. "I'm sorry. I don't know her. Is that your friend?"

"Yeah…she was…" Brittany said as she placed the photo away.

"She was beautiful."

"She was…" Santana muttered from behind Brittany.

* * *

As they got back into Ronny, Santana turned to Brittany with a puzzled look on her face.

"Why did you show her the picture? There's no way that they could have known each other…"

"Just something I thought about when she mentioned Reckloose…"

"I can't imagine you'd remember too much about that place…" Santana teased softly with a sparkle in her eyes which mirrored Brittany's own eyes. They both wanted to move on from the exchange with Felicia.

"We used to go there a lot, but I seem to remember Rachel had a matchbook from the club in her purse when they found her."

Santana shook her head. "No, Brittany. Well maybe she did, but I used to give them to her all the time as a joke. We used to get so many of those things with numbers and hearts on the back. So I would flick them at Rachel as a joke. So even if there is one in the evidence box, it's probably from me."

"Yeah, but do we have any other leads? Felicia never had the Strangler contact her like last night so what else do we got?"

Santana rolled her eyes. Reckloose had always been a train wreck of a time when they would go there. Fuck.

"Fine, but I want to make sure about the matchbook first."

"No problem. I've got connections to the evidence lockers at the precinct."

"Yeah, I'm sure you do…" Santana said with just enough sarcasm that both women smirked as she pulled Ronny away from the curb. "Which reminds me…you still haven't given me my case notes yet."

Brittany's clairvoyant blue eyes sparkled as she quipped back. "I know."

* * *

**Once again, sorry about the delay, but I wanna make sure I am putting the right amount of detail and attention to each chapter. So I won't be able to make a chapter a week because of my crazy ass schedule, but with love and encouragement, I will definitely be posting as soon as I am able. **_**Sirens**_** is pretty much all I think about so even during class I am writing plots and mini scenes. So stick with it! **

**Have a lovely rest of the week and hopefully you'll be hearing from me shortly! :D**

**There shall be clubbing in the next chapter. And since I haven't gone clubbing in forever :( I am very excited to live vicariously through my characters! Yay!**


	11. Chapter 11

**So I'm starting to get a handle on my semester, plus hearing from you guys always makes me want to write the next chapter right away. **

**To my Anon, I don't know who you are, but I would love to do a Superhero!Britt, but I am SuperBusy!Kelly right now, so I don't know if that's going to happen. hahaha But I haven't had an idea on a one-shot. Perhaps I could make that my next one-shot or two-shot without the playtime attached and just make it a superpowered shorty. Thanks for the suggestion and the compliments. **

**To other Anon, I totally feel ya on the apartment. I can't wait for Santana to see it too! I am also waiting for that moment. Haha**

**And we're back to…**

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 11**

"Shouldn't we check in with Puck?"

"Nah, all that red tape… It's much easier to just go to Allen directly."

"On first name basis with him, huh?"

"Not like that…well…not exactly like that." Brittany lightly laughed as Santana quirked her eyebrow at the rather vague answer. It felt good to clear the tension that had been pretty thick at Felicia's house. As hard as she tried to repress the jealousy and regret that welled within her, Brittany had been unable to deny that she felt an array of emotions when Felicia had so intimately asked if Santana was okay. At the time of the attacks, Britt had been far too engrossed to even register that someone could get close enough to _her _Santana. Foolishly, she had forgotten that relationships needed to be fostered no matter how in love they had been. Brittany had allowed Santana to slip away from her without even realizing it – until it was far too late.

Back then, Brittany had been able to brush off the kiss and Felicia. Santana had always been – and still was – incredibly attractive. So Felicia could be this bloody body on the ground in Brittany's mind; the opposite of threatening. The moment she had just witnessed between her ex-lover and Felicia; that had been real. Something very real and tangible. Facing the reality that there could have or there had been something between Santana and another person made her feel torn inside.

"Great." Santana responded. She was beginning to sense that Britt had developed a very unorthodox relationship with the police department in her absence. "Should I even ask what that means?"

"It's best to leave some things a mystery."

"I'm not so sure about that…" Santana replied teasingly. The brunette was also glad to leave Felicia's house. The whole interview had gone better than she thought it would, but it still didn't erase that strange pulling in her gut. There were so many things that happened and she never had the opportunity or want to address them.

They had been so in love.

And so stupid.

"Trust me, you'll enjoy Allen."

* * *

As they pulled Ronny back into the station, intact, Brittany glanced down at her cell phone. A grimace manifested before she could contain her reaction to the name on the screen.

"Look, I gotta take this. Why don't you give Puck that update, I'm sure he's biting his nails down to nothing worrying about us." Brittany looked back down at the phone with an annoyed expression as she exited the car and went a good distance away in the police car garage before picking up the phone. For brief moment, Santana could hear the blonde's voice sharply answering the call with an abrupt "what?" but Brittany continued to walk towards the stairs to the roof. Santana lost the conversation.

Clearly she didn't want Santana to be a party to whatever that phone call was about. Why else would she be practically running to the roof? Santana rolled her eyes.

Whatever.

Not her shit to deal with. Santana sighed. Whenever it seemed like they could smile or relax around each other, some ugly word, moment, or memory would starkly remind them they weren't okay.

And yet, Santana's eyes couldn't help but linger on Brittany's backside. Unconsciously, Santana noted the way Brittany held her shoulders at that taut and awkward angle and the way the tips of her boots dragged against the concrete like a sulking child. Brittany had never outgrown the habit. But there was more; the way she bent her head down while talking into the phone while her free hand dragged through her thick blonde hair meant she wasn't comfortable talking. Maybe the past few days together were starting to have an effect on the brunette.

Santana instinctively felt the pull to march out of the car and discover the source of Brittany's agitation.

"Not my place…" Santana repeated, but this time out loud to reinforce the statement. It was followed by a scornful after thought. "Why should I care?"

She reached into her pocket and began to hit Puck's name to dial, but her fingers hovered over the key.

The brunette remembered how quickly Brittany had rushed to her side last night and without saying a word. Britt had known exactly what Santana needed.

"Fuck…" It was so irresponsible for her to have feelings still wrapped up in tall, fucked up, emotionally wrecked, irresistibly attractive, and hyper obsessed Brittany S. Pierce. She had to leave New York when it had gotten so twisted and Santana had spent the past four years trying to bury the past. At the same time she pressed the button to call Puck, Santana opened the passenger side door and began to walk the same path Brittany had taken a few minutes ago.

"Lopez, what's up? You break Ronny yet? Or did you two set fire to the state of New York?" Puck answered through the phone.

"Nothing that drastic, but it's only late afternoon so that gives us plenty of time."

Puck's demeanor changed through the receiver. "Not funny, Tan. You know I've got to clean your shit up – well not your shit exactly."

"You mean, Brittany's shit?" She could hear him grinding his teeth. "We're fine. Don't worry about it, Puck. She did walk away to take a phone call. It seemed to upset her. Know anything about that?"

Again, Puck went on the defensive. He gave Santana a curt, "No."

His answer surprised her. She hadn't expected a real answer, but she also didn't expect him to completely blow her off. "Fine. You and Brittany can have your secrets. Whatever. I didn't mean anything by it. She just looked upset as she walked away."

"Tana, I didn't mean to be short, but…" He trailed off looking for the words. "She's got some shit that she has to take care of and it's not my place to talk about it. If you're so concerned, ask her yourself."

The conversation between them faltered. So Puck continued. "I didn't know that you cared to be in her life again."

"I-" It was Santana's turn to test the words in her head before spitting them out. "-I still care, Puck. It's Brittany. If you know the magic words to make me stop caring about her then tell me because I don't think anything will ever take that away."

Another lull.

Finally, "Why'd you call?"

"Nothing really. Brittany just wanted to distract me from following her while she talked to this mysterious person neither of you want me to know about."

"Tan…"

"We tracked down Felicia. We didn't learn that much. Same story. Nothing's changed and the killer hasn't contacted her and didn't four years ago so this is a whole new game with-" It was hard to admit she had been a _victim_ of a crime. "-me. But we have a lead we want to follow. I'll make sure we don't get into too much trouble."

"Need anything from me or the department?"

Santana weighed the decision to trust Brittany and her contacts as opposed to asking Puck to acquire access for them into the evidence lockers.

But…

Her eyes glanced to the door right in front of her which read: Roof Access.

Trust. It was something Santana had lost four years ago. But when Brittany's arms had wrapped around her last night, something triggered inside her. Maybe it was time to let trust in again.

What was the worst that could happen?

She couldn't lose something, or rather, someone she had already lost.

"No. We've got it covered. Thanks anyway, Noah. We will keep you up to date. Good luck with the press today."

"Thanks, Pez. I will catch ya later."

Santana closed her phone already forgetting most of her conversation with Puck as she opened the door. Blonde hair eagerly caught the wind as Brittany stood a few feet away still talking on the phone.

"I'll be there. I said I would be there so I will be there." Brittany spoke emphatically into her own phone.

Santana didn't want to ease drop without permission. She placed a hand to her mouth and coughed lightly to gain Brittany's attention. The woman whipped around right away seeking the source of the intrusion. Bright, azure eyes relayed confusion, but also smiled at the interruption. She mouthed, "Hey" to Santana while still listening to the person of the other end. "I understand. Don't call me again. I will see you later. Good-bye."

With that, Brittany hit the end call button and shoved the phone back into her pocket.

"What are you doing out here?" Brittany asked, but unlike Puck's tone of voice, she sounded pleased to see the other woman. In fact, Britt spoke low as her eyes sparkled. Santana showing up had been a surprise. "Get bored waiting for me?"

"No, it's not that." Santana said as she took another step closer in the cold air. "I just wanted to see if you were okay."

Brittany's smile drooped for a moment, but only because she hadn't expected that answer. Slowly the sides of her mouth turned up into something more like a smirk. As much as it made her feel good to know Santana cared, Brittany couldn't allow her to get close again. "Yeah, I'm fine. What could be wrong?"

San shook her head. "Whatever, Britt, I understand that you've got stuff going on. I don't belong here. I know that, but I still know when you're not okay."

The blonde's feet shuffled at the small specks of gravel underneath her boots.

Santana continued. "I just wanted to be here for you if you needed it."

Brittany pushed back some of her loose strands of blonde hair. "It's nothing. Thanks anyway. Let's get into that evidence box. Did you talk to Puck?"

Santana shivered at the cold as she nodded. "Yeah, but I didn't tell him about your plan or your contact, Allen, so he's not going to come around and chaperone…that's what you're asking, right?"

Brittany's eyebrows rose in curiosity. She would have teased Santana since she had wanted to take it by the book from the start of this investigation. Brittany said nothing. Her facial expression said it all. So not only was Santana going to trust Brittany to handle the evidence locker, but she had misled Puck?

"Shut it, Britt." Santana responded playfully as she noticed the look in Brittany's eyes. "I just didn't want to put anything else on Puck's plate right now."

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever you say, San."

* * *

"Yes, thank you. The department appreciates the media's continued cooperation as we investigate the murders of two young women." Macklin said roughly. "We have no need to cover up the rumors that the tabloids have been spreading. For the record, we do believe these murders are related."

"How many suspects do you have?"

"I heard the department has already made an arrest and is detaining a suspect!"

"How do you account for your department's lax approach to this investigation?"

And the last question that Macklin could hear above the ruckus was the most important.

"Are these murders in any way related to the Midnight Strangler?"

Macklin had been waiting for that one. This case would be the death of him. It surprised no one when his superior, Chief Garlow, stepped down four years ago. Stepped down or forced to retire – either way, this murderer was also a career killer. In the past week, he felt as if he had aged years.

"It is true that we brought in a suspect for questioning, but only as the individual had connections to a similar case. It was routine procedure and will not be part of our investigation from here on." He looked to Puck, who stood stoically at his side. He remembered when he had been a young man like Puck and ready to stop injustice. Maybe when he was young, he felt as if he accomplished that goal. Now, an old man, he knew evil resided everywhere. "As of right now, this investigation is on-going, and therefore I can only offer you limited answers."

"What about the Midnight Strangler?"

Macklin scratched at his upper lip. "The department has been unable to confirm that this is the Midnight Strangler as you are referencing since there have been a few years since he surfaced. The feds have been called in and will be arriving shortly to piece together a profile and determine if our current case is related to that one."

"Chief!"

"Chief! One more thing!"

"No, I'm sorry, but I am done for now. Thank you for your patience. As soon as we discover something pertinent to the safety of our community, we shall let the media know immediately." Macklin began to readjust the mic. "Now, I turn the mic over to the lead detective on the case, Detective Noah Puckerman. Please, direct your questions to him."

Puck shook the chief's hand as he walked by. The questions bombarded.

"Detective, how long have you worked this case?"

"How many times have you been the lead?"

"Are you going to let your personal involvement in the Strangler Case dictate your investigation?"

"What would you tell our television audience to do in order to avoid danger?"

Puck cleared his throat and showed his nerves for a second. His hand ran through his buzz cut. Stage life and natural confidence took over. "I would advise our citizens to travel in groups and be on the lookout for suspicious behavior. We have a hotline to take calls. We require the help of everyone to catch criminals and the more help we receive; perhaps the faster we can stop him. The attacker works at night. Avoid situations in which you are alone and vulnerable. If you have protection like mace or a taser, carry them with you at all times. And if you feel uncomfortable, call us. We are here to protect and serve."

"What about the two women called in from the Midnight Strangler case? Doesn't that confirm this is the same killer?" A voice spoke from the crowd. It was clear and to the point – a woman's voice.

Puck looked for the source and wasn't surprised to see the attractive reporter from the crime scene smirking at him from the corner. She had a knowing look on her face that spelled trouble. Puck decided that he needed to address the question since she had already incited curiosity with those few words. The crowd began to murmur and he saw a majority of the reporters pulling out phones to confirm the identity of the P.I.s on the scene. "The two women you are referring to are on the department's payroll as consultants and have been for a few years. They have worked cases with us at different times. Their involvement in this particular case is not extraordinary."

The rest of the group seemed to buy it, but Puck could tell that she did not. Yet, she only nodded and let him continue on with a knowing smile. The rest of the press meeting went surprisingly smooth and when Puck was satisfied, he also bid the group adieu. He walked through the side door and started to trek back to the department.

"_Detective_ Puckerman-" The same woman's voice caught him down the hallway and held him in place. Puck was beginning to recognize the sound of her voice now. The stress on his title was a jab at his rather forceful insistence that he was a detective at the crime scene. "-I was hoping you could clarify a few questions for me."

He turned with an amused smile, but shook his head. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I can't offer you anything more than I already gave in there."

"I'm sure you could off a little more than that, but not on the murders. I was really just looking for you."

"And the reason why you keep asking such personal questions about those two women?"

"A curious girl needs to know her competition, Detective Puckerman." The words came accompanied by an effortless wink. She held out her perfectly manicured hand for Puck to shake. "I am Jocelyn Gage."

Puck hesitated before taking the offered hand. "I'm still Detective Puckerman."

"I like the title, _detective_." Jocelyn smiled. "Look, I know you probably think I am just trying to worm my way into some information, but I promise, if you take me up on my offer for beers, I won't mention work once. If I do, you can walk right out on me and we never speak of it again."

He felt like he was playing with fire, but Puck had never been able to stop himself before. Why should he start now? His body and insides were littered with scars from third degree burns from playing with women like Jocelyn his entire life. Anyway, she was an incredibly gorgeous woman and how could one date wouldn't harm anyone? The prospect of escaping the precinct, Macklin, the case, Santana, and definitely Brittany would be a welcomed change.

Yet, he remained silent.

Nothing seemed to bother the woman. She reached into her purse and pulled out a business card for him. "Here's my card. Give me a call if you change your mind."

Puck nodded as he took the card. He flipped it around in his fingers a few times before headed back to his desk.

Damn women.

He sighed as he started to type her name into the data base.

First, a background check.

* * *

Allen was Allen. He embodied the meaning of nondescript – the way his skin hung loosely around his skull unsure it belonged there. His body wasn't overweight and yet he seemed to wear it awkwardly as if it were naturally disproportioned. He looked up from behind the steel cage from a clipboard in his hand and smirked as he saw the blonde P.I. strutting towards him. "Pierce, you son of a bitch, da fuck you doing here? At least you finally brought me my payment. Took you fucking long enough."

His eyes scanned up and down Santana's body. They lingered quite obnoxiously on her chest. Allen must have believed in hidden powers. It seemed he thought if he stared long enough at the woman's body, her clothes would magically fall off. Santana scowled and instinctively raised her hands to cover her chest despite the fact that the shirt from Puck's apartment was definitely more modest than the outfits she had been wearing all week. At least she wasn't wearing a skirt today. Finally she snorted in disgust and gave the guy a warning. "Excuse me. Do you mind?"

"Not at all." Allen licked his upper lip. "She's a fiery one, Pierce. I like that. But I see that you only brought me one. Not what we agreed on."

"The fuck are you talking about? Watch your fucking eyes and where they are focused. My eyes are up here, pervert. This is your only fucking warning. I will fucking cut you. I don't care what kind of uniform you're wearing."

Britt snorted at Santana's snappy threat. Lima Heights Badass. Both sets of eyes darted to Brittany as they heard the noise. Santana glared while Allen looked at her suspiciously. Brittany realized they were waiting for her to clarify the confusion and hostilities between them. The blonde straightened up. Her right hand flipped to the brim of her hat and flicked it up and down a few times. At the same time, her other hand flicked behind her backside to send Santana a signal they used during high school. They had developed a sort of language with their hands and eyes back then. It happened naturally and it wasn't fancy. It just helped them communicate with each other when it would have been socially unacceptable.

The sharp motion of her fingers through the air meant to back off. She would take care of this. Santana recognized the subtle hand gesture and bristled at being told to ease off. This asshole was looking her up and down like a piece of meat. She wanted to give him something more concrete than a warning. She shifted angrily, but held her ground not taking a step towards the creep. When she had made the decision to not reveal their intentions to Puck on the phone, she had made the commitment to trust Brittany – at least for now.

Santana backed off.

Brittany tipped her hat in appreciation although she couldn't believe Santana would let her take care of Allen. Small miracles, she guessed.

Her attention turned back to the man still leering from behind the cage. Brittany gave him a matching smug smirk as she approached the steel mesh separating them.

"Allen, my main man. Glad to see that you're keeping it classy as always."

"Spare me your smart mouth, Pierce, and let me have a look-see at my present."

"Well with such a charming attitude, it's a total mystery as to why you set your price for favors the way you do."

"Fuck it. If this-" His eyes glanced back over to Santana beyond Brittany's hat. "-isn't for me. I've got nothing for ya."

"Hey!" Brittany said quickly, but softened her voice the second time. "Hey now, Al. We can work something out. We don't have to be completely rude to each other."

"Last time we worked something out, it didn't work out for me." Again, Allen narrowed his eyes, unwilling to fully trust the blonde P.I. Santana's lips continued to curve downwards at the exchange. What the hell were they talking about?

"Come here…" Brittany leaned in so her lips were right up against the crossing metal patterns of steel separating them. Santana continued to frown since she couldn't hear the conversation happening between Allen and her partner. Annoyed at herself and Brittany, Santana continued to silently remind herself that she was the one who decided to trust Brittany; this was her own fault.

"And you're sure this is going to happen?" Allen finally pulled back from their secret conference.

"Absolutely. I guarantee it. And if it doesn't, I will bring you something much better. I promise."

Allen took one more longing glance at Santana before he finally nodded. "Fine, you've got yourself a deal, Pierce, but you better deliver or I am bringing your shit up with Macklin."

"No need to do that." Brittany said with a wink and leaned back from the counter and nodded her head for Santana to approach.

"No taking anything this time, Pierce, or I will cuff you myself especially since this is an open case with top priority. Sign your names here." He pointed to the clip board. "And here. I will fill out the rest of the paperwork since you two don't have badge numbers. At least, you've got your P.I. license. I'll have to figure out what to do about you."

"I am a practicing lawyer." Santana mumbled as she signed her name. She still didn't like this guy. And her feelings were reaffirmed when she saw the way his eyes lit up at this new bit of information.

"Kinky." He said licking his lips again.

"No, you fucker, she's _actually_ a lawyer." Brittany smacked her palm at the cage to get his attention. The loud noise startled him from leering at Santana. "Leave him a number to call your boss so he can get confirmation, San."

"Like I said, kinky."

Santana shot him a look that could kill, but refrained from attacking at Brittany's pacifying look. Fuck her, if that's what working in tandem would be like, she was about to blow. But she picked up the pen and sighed. This was the second time Brittany had called her by her familiar nickname. No one else said it like the blonde. In fact, when she moved away to California, Santana had made sure her coworkers only called her by her full name. It felt exhilarating to hear her name spoken with such familiarity again. She blinked and wrote down Terry's number.

"Here's the number of the row you need. No touching anything else." He slipped a piece of paper underneath the cage to Brittany.

"Not coming with us?"

"Nah, you guys can have fun back there. It's a mess towards the back where the cold cases are and the lights don't always work."

"Perfect." Brittany sighed.

"You're gonna wanna start heading to your left." He said with a satisfied smirk as he buzzed the door open for them.

* * *

They had been walking together down the rows and stacks of evidence boxes for a couple minutes. Santana refused to ask Brittany about Allen and his strange requests. If Brittany didn't want to divulge information freely, than Santana wasn't about to go fishing for answers. It grated on her to be so stubborn, but she couldn't change now. So they walked in silence down the stacks. Each woman caught up in their own thoughts.

"Are you sure you want to come with me?" Brittany whispered. It seemed so strange to be walking down rows and rows of evidence associated with different cases. Blue eyes pierced through the dim lights from the paper in her hand to the numbers on cabinets and shelves. "You've had a pretty rough day and last night wasn't exactly fun."

"I'm fine." Santana responded. She had been in shock last night and she dealt with that day just fine. But she knew why Britt decided to voice her trepidations at that moment. They were about to go through Rachel's belongings or at least some of them.

"I know. I just want to make sure…ya know, because of the stress of seeing the body and Felicia. I just don't want this to be too much."

"I won't be caught off guard. I know what I'm getting into here, Brittany. I'll be fine. And Felicia…" Santana trailed off unsure how to complete the sentence without bringing up the past. They were getting so good at avoiding. Why should she break the pattern now? "And Felicia – believe it or not, it was nice to see her again."

In the dim light, Santana couldn't see Brittany's face clearly, but she felt the tension run up and down her partner's body. They never really did talk about that incident four years ago. They had been separated for that entire time, so why did the pain of betrayal feel so acute after all that time? Brittany's mouth drew a taut line, but she kept her silence.

Uncomfortable at the strange air between them, Santana coughed before continuing her thought. "I mean, it was good to see her, not because of anything that happened between us, but because she looks like she's out of this mess. It looked like someone was living with her. And that's good. It means something good can come out of this whole thing even if it won't happen to me."

She trailed off, dropping her voice at the final admission and kept her eyes straight ahead. It was hard to admit when one's life hit rock bottom and never really straightened out. Sure, she could compare herself to Brittany and say she was doing better, and yet, Santana knew that if she dug deep, she was drowning just as badly as Brittany. She was just drowning with a law degree and a stable job. It didn't mean she was swimming to shore safely anytime sooner.

"I know what you mean…" Brittany finally responded after a long minute. The P.I. didn't want to push Santana to elaborate because Brittany really did understand the sentiment. At the same time, it was hard to hear Santana say those words. When she looked at Santana, Brittany wanted to see someone like the well-adjusted Felicia. When she left New York, Brittany could send all her anger towards California because Santana was supposed to be living a perfect life away from all this shit. That was what Brittany had seen only a few days ago when the brunette had been sitting and swinging her legs with that confident smile and easy laugh. All it took was a few days together and Brittany had begun to realize that they weren't very different. Brittany had wanted Santana to have everything, but in the end, they each had nothing. Letting Santana leave hadn't made either of their lives better.

It was that truth which hurt the most.

Silence descended on them. But Brittany could feel more emotions building. She had been so stupid to have let Santana slip away from her back then. "I saw the way she looked at you. She would do anything for you."

This time, Santana's body stiffened at the admission. It wasn't something she wanted to think about. It was better to repress these things. "It's only because of that night, B."

Brittany thought about the way she felt about Santana. Even after all these years and the distance – would she still do anything for her?

The answer sent a chill down her body with a resounding and definitive "yes".

"I just…" Brittany scratched at her scalp underneath the hat. "I just have never seen anyone else look at you like that."

Santana felt her heart beat faster and faster with every word out of Brittany's mouth. Why did she have to talk like this? It took her so long to inhibit all the emotions she tied to the blonde when she left New York. It had been the hardest part of starting a new life; erasing the old one and Santana had built her entire life around Brittany. Part of her resented Brittany for bringing up these emotions and concerns four years later. Where was this Brittany when she needed her?

"It's not like that." Santana said quieter. No, what Felicia felt could never compare to what she shared with Brittany. Nothing had before or since.

Brittany stopped in front of a stack and double checked the numbers to make sure they were accurate. Santana took a step forward, but Brittany blocked her from progressing down the hallway. Now they were facing each other. Her heart beat double time as she faced Santana without words prepared. She didn't know what she was doing. It had been a long time since she did something spontaneous without the direction of alcohol. This spontaneity came from a much deeper place inside. It had been a long time since she followed the whimsy of her heart, but here she was facing Santana in all earnestness. She closed her eyes to look for the right words, but they didn't form. Santana's brows creased and the blonde felt pressured. So she just opened her mouth and trusted the right thing would come out. "I didn't handle it right back then. I should have been there more to help you – help us. And I'm sorry. I thought we'd always be okay and so I just assumed it would all smooth out. I – should have been the one to talk to you after Rachel's death. I'm sorry. I never got to say that and that makes me sorry too."

Brittany finished talking unsure how she was able to piece together a sentence much less her feelings. It felt like something cracked inside of her. A small crack – an opening to some part of her that she had long buried away. It felt so good. It felt so frightening. Her heart pounded and her palms were sweaty as she waited for a response.

Captive, Santana stood rooted to the spot. While words seemed to flow freely from Brittany, they remained staunchly absent for the brunette. Foolishly, she had tricked herself into believing she could be the only one with feelings still caught up in the other. The fight she had waged upon herself for the past four years seemed petty and childish. This unabashed Brittany was the girl who voiced anything she thought out loud. That Brittany had been unconcerned about the world; she only cared about Santana's opinion. The woman who stood before her stared back with those same eyes. Words still failed her. "I didn't make it easy either…"

Perhaps that answer would have made any other person angry, but Brittany just smiled. "You never did."

The blonde nodded thoughtfully before she turned around and continued down the aisle. Something changed. Santana didn't know what, but something had shifted for better or for worse. Unable to comprehend, Santana chose to ignore the way Brittany had just made her feel. Without the penetrating gaze directly on her, it was easier to suppress those bubbling affections and memories.

"Here." Britt took one of the two boxes from the shelf labeled: Berry. The box seemed heavy, but Brittany felt as if it was a trick of her mind. Everything Rachel had been wearing the night of her murder had been stowed in this box. Sure, it was weighty. Santana approached with the same reverence unsure what to say or do next. "There's another box. You wanna grab that one?"

Santana followed Brittany's eyes back to the shelf. There were tons of boxes, but none of the others were marked with Rachel's last name. A few of them were dated from around the same time as her death and bore names to places where victims had been found and suspects, but these boxes were solely hers. Hushed, Santana nodded. "Sure."

Another sort of silence fell between the women. It wasn't awkward, but it was deep and resounding. On the cold cement floor and between the flickers of lights, they sat. Brittany opened her box first. Everything was sealed in bags with red tape.

Santana was pleased to see all the evidence was being kept within procedure and following protocol. "Don't open the bags." She finally said. Brittany looked up not annoyed, but like a child caught. A guilty smile passed her lips, but she nodded in agreement. If Santana could play nice, maybe she could try it too.

That silence descended again.

Brittany pulled out a list on the top and scanned down the contents of the box. It was the right one. She looked for the purse contents listed because it was easier to read about Rachel's final belongings than to actually dig through them. It seemed so wrong. "It should be in here…"

Santana nodded. She too understood the gravity of the moment.

The first bag she pulled up was tight sealed and air compressed to fit Rachel's peacoat folded neatly. Brittany handed that to Santana and the brunette touched it gently before she settled it on top of her own box. Next was a smaller bad containing a knitted hat. Santana shook her head with a smirk as she took that one from Brittany as well. "Kurt never did get her to stop wearing those ridiculous hats."

"Hats can be fun…" Brittany said as she looked up from the box. The silence between them and Rachel's memory began to alleviate. Santana rolled her eyes as she placed the bag on top of the coat. Her eyes already lingered on the box and waited for the next bag. She didn't want to spend too much time reminiscing down here. She didn't want to lose the fragile hold on her composure.

"This has to be it." Brittany pulled out a bag with loose items inside. The label read: Purse Contents. She was about to open it, but stopped herself. The matchbook could clearly be seen through the transparent plastic. It wasn't the only object floating in the bag. There was a lip gloss; Santana expressive remembered forbidding Rachel to use because it look like she was still sixteen whenever she applied it to her lips. A few tissues hung around the edges of things. Her wallet with her I.D. Everything looked discolored. Santana told herself it was from storage and not from dried blood.

"So…" Santana started to say, but paused. Her eyes lingered on a picture of the glee club from high school. It had been so long ago. They had been so young then. So alive.

Hopeful.

It was sickening to think they would never have that feeling again. The feeling that meant they would be safe and secure. They were going to get somewhere. Rachel, at least, died before her dreams crashed to the ground in a fiery blaze. Her dark eyes shifted from Rachel's face to the two figures in the background of the picture. She'd recognize herself and Brittany from just the way their bodies were positioned. Santana had thrown her legs over Britt's during the picture. They had been in their own little world at the time and had barely looked up to take the picture. Even if they didn't look like absolute geeks like the rest of the club, nothing could mask the happiness they shared just being there, together at glee club.

"San?" Brittany asked gently with concern.

Santana realized she had been staring and blinked to return to the present. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just…memories…"

"We have lots." Brittany glanced at the picture too as similar thoughts entered her own mind.

"Whatever…" Santana half-heartedly muttered as she wiped at the corner of her eye. "Do you see the matchbook?"

Blinking, Brittany's blue eyes scanned the bag again to locate the matchbook. It had the club's name written brazenly across the middle in bright purple: Reckloose. A small outline of pursed lips punctuated the logo and directions were written in incredibly small font at the bottom corner. "Yeah."

"Flip it over in the bag so we can see if anything is written on it."

Brittany juggled the evidence bag a bit until the matchbook maneuvered around. And there written on the back in pink ink was not only a name, but a number. Santana scooted her body across the cold floor so she could get a better look at the findings. Shaking her head, Santana whispered. "I can't believe you remembered this was in here."

"I looked at those photos for a long time." Brittany answered back quietly.

"And it's definitely not one of the ones I threw at her. It's even addressed to her." Santana pointed at the book from the other side of the plastic. The pink numbers came with a heart afterwards and a small note that read: Rachel, plz call me.

"Yeah, but who's it from? And when does Rachel go to a gay bar and not invite us?" The blonde asked bluntly. She pulled out her cell phone and began to dial the number.

"Good point. If that's how she wanted to swing, I would have taken her to a gay bar anytime just for the fun of it." Santana looked at Brittany's fingers quickly hitting buttons on her keypad. "What are you doing?"

"Calling this-" Brittany scrunched up the plastic a little more to move a tissue, but no name was on the matchbook except for Rachel. "-woman up to see if we can get some answers from her."

The phone beeped a few times before Brittany hung up with an exasperated sigh.

"The line's dead."

"It's a pretty distinct signature. Maybe someone will recognize it. Some of those women have these things already written up and ready to hand out like party favors at those places."

"Four years is a long time, Santana."

"If the matchbook doesn't work. You have that picture of Rachel…" Santana said softly. She had her own picture of their friend in her clutch, but it was deep down there. Since she moved from New York, it had stayed there and cemented itself to the lining. "Maybe they'll recognize her. Besides, what other leads do we have?"

Sheepishly, Britt smiled as Santana used her own line from earlier that day. Maybe they could work this partnership thing out and catch this asshole. Just maybe... they could have five minutes together without fighting or glaring. Her eyes glanced downwards to the rest of the box. "Do you want to go through the rest of Rachel's things?"

Santana shook her head without hesitation. "Maybe after we can finally put her to rest properly."

Brittany nodded in agreement. She pulled out her phone once more and shot a picture of the number and message so they could show it to people at the club. Reverently, Santana handed back the other bags which Brittany neatly packed away into the box. In silence, they placed the boxes back on the shelves where they had taken them. The moment Rachel Berry's name was placed back above them, the air finally cleared all the way and both women released a sigh.

* * *

"So are you ready for a bit of the New York nightlife again?" Brittany teased as they walked back down the stacks in the relatively dark archives of the police station.

Recognizing the tease, Santana smirked. "It hasn't been considered nightlife since I left the east coast."

"Cocky aren't you?" Brittany teased back. A little playful banter never hurt to release tension and anxiety. Being that close to Rachel's belongings had been stressful even if neither of them wanted to admit it.

"Speaking of cocky…" Santana spoke up. "So are we going to talk about what the fuck that was all about earlier?"

"What was about?" The blonde playfully responded as she kept her eyes straight ahead. She knew if she glanced to her left, she would be unable to contain the smile budding on her face.

"Brittany…"

"Allen? You're talking about Allen?" Fake innocence dripped from her words.

"Britt…" Santana said her name again in a lower key, but she wasn't losing her patience. It was nice to ask Brittany about anything not directly related to the case or their lives. It felt easier to joke when it was about some guy she didn't even know.

"It's nothing. I mean nothing really important…"

"B…" Santana said her nickname as they entered a darker section of the archives. She took this opportunity to move up parallel to the blonde. "I trusted you to come down here without going through Puck or Mack. Don't you think you can tell me about your special relationship with Allen?"

"I know." She sincerely did appreciate Santana's cooperation. "Trust me when I say you don't want to know what Allen thought you were there for."

Now Santana couldn't help but roll her eyes. Laughing, she asked. "Brittany Susan Pierce, are you side hustling as a pimp now? I can tell you've been wearing that ridiculous hat too much and its cut off the circulation to your brain."

Quick as lightening, Santana flicked her fingers up and flipped the brim. It bounced off Brittany's head and onto the floor. Indignant and unable to catch the hat before it fell, Brittany yelled. "Hey!"

Instead of reaching for the hat, the blonde turned around into Santana's body to retaliate. Light laughter escaped her lips and she gave Santana a playful push. A knowing smirk emerged on Santana's face as she too fell into a playful mood and pushed back.

It escalated.

For a moment, they both wrestled for dominance, playfully tossing against each other; pinching each other's arms and poking. But Brittany's height gave her the advantage as she shoved the smaller woman with more force. Santana let out a small grunt as she felt her back hit a filing cabinet behind her. Her plump lips parted into a sharp gasp as the back of her shirt rode up and her bare skin touched the ice-cold metal behind her body. The sensation caused her to arch up. Her hips lifted from the cabinet as the front of her slammed back into Brittany's already close and hovering presence. Their chests crashed together and they instantly froze.

Again, Santana was distinctly reminded of their height difference. She couldn't stop herself from panting against Brittany's exposed collarbone. Her dark eyes glued to the smooth expanse of Brittany's upper chest. For a moment, she didn't move – she feared the consequence.

Their bodies were flush.

Any movement would result in discovering just how close they had physically come. And without moving, Santana already knew Brittany's leg had somehow maneuvered into the space between her own. Just the thought…

Fuck.

Just the thought sent a hard, hot shudder down her body. From her head to her toes then back up her burning core. Fuck. This wasn't what she signed up for. This was not – this was – this –

She couldn't even form coherent thoughts and that was only her body and mind not functioning. The brunette was totally unprepared to look up, but she did so anyway unconsciously drawn to make that connection with the other woman. When those sincere, vibrant, cerulean eyes met her own, Santana knew her heart had stopped as well. Everything in that moment faded away.

Breathless, "Britt…"

Despite Santana's resolve to remain motionless, Brittany's body hummed at the contact. She wanted to dance her fingers up and down Santana's sides. She struggled and finally moved just an inch closer so she could place her open palm against the metal beside Santana's head. That small movement brought them a thousand miles closer. Her body instinctively reacted as her hips rolled forward.

Suddenly, Brittany realized this wasn't just any woman beneath her, but this was Santana.

The Santana.

Her Santana.

She didn't hear Santana's whispered plea so much as she felt it. Untamed, it rippled down her body – low and sensuous. She remembered the way Santana's eyes used to pool under her gaze. In those moments, there had never been any doubt they belonged to each other. Brittany lost the ability to tell times and worlds apart. They were eighteen and in love with each graduating from McKinley. They were 20 year olds moving into an apartment together and opening up a studio. They were 20-something year olds running an investigation business and going to law school.

And then nothing. She'd been free falling for four years with nothing to hold onto.

She blinked at the thought. Just like that, the magic between them retreated at an alarming rate. Brittany tried to grasp hold of it, but Santana was already ebbing away. The Latina's hands pushed back at Brittany's shoulders with a half-hearted smile meant to assuage her awkward attempt to put distance between them. Brittany knew it was lost; she felt both relief and agitation as she took two obligatory steps backwards. Her blue eyes glanced around at the floor and the wall, but not directly into Santana's face. That had been stupid.

Yet, she could still feel the residual humming through her body as if to starkly remind her there had been magic between them even if for the briefest of moments. But what did that mean?

At the same time, they turned to each other, but neither of them could speak. Santana recovered much faster. She pushed down at the material on her borrowed shirt and walked around Brittany's body. Brittany watched wordlessly as the brunette bent over with natural grace to pick up the hat from the floor. Her dark eyes remained on the material as her fingers grazed over the frayed lining and the worn spots where Brittany's frequent touches had reformed its natural shape to fit her head. In many respects, Santana felt like that hat before she had left New York. They had always been together and had molded to accommodate each other while still remaining themselves. When they were that close, everything would fade away. Why did she feel a thousand different emotions around Brittany? And why did most of them feel like guilt, while the other half made her feel a thousand different shades of anxious?

"Here." Santana finally raised her eyes from the dark hat and offered it towards Britt.

Brittany reached for the hat, but she wanted to see if the magic still existed between them. She needed to know if the spark was more than just her imagination. Her long fingers purposely grazed over the brunette's unsuspecting digits as she took the hat back. The simplest of touches electrified the air around them once again. Dark eyes instantly shot up in surprise and then held the gaze for a moment too long while the air sizzled between them. Britt's heart pounded as she realized whatever was still between them wasn't a fluke. She whispered. "Thanks."

Breathless, Santana whispered back. "Yeah…"

A voice shouted and filled the archives. "You bitches done back there? I swear to fucking god, if you got it on with that sweet piece of ass without letting me see, I'll kill you and they'll never find your body."

Santana rolled her eyes at Allen and looked back at Brittany with a much more comfortable smile – one that reminded Brittany of the way she used to give the blonde secret smirks during class in high school. "He's a real catch, B. No wonder you won't tell me anything about him. Want to keep him all to yourself, huh?"

A light blush blossomed in Britt's high cheekbones as she lightly laughed. "I have excellent taste in lovers."

"I think your standards might have dropped somewhat." Santana smirked and she couldn't help throwing a flirtatious wink in the blonde's direction before she started to walk back to Allen. Brittany stood there frozen. Her fingers danced along the edge of the hat where Santana had been holding it.

Everything was so confusing.

"Are you going to at least tell me what he did for you last time that he expects payment for?" Santana called back without looking.

Brittany shook her head as she shoved the hat back on. "That is definitely a secret."

Santana snorted and threw her hands up in the air in mock exasperation. "Whatever. You coming?"

* * *

**Okay, I know I promised clubbing and there was no clubbing. I lied? I finished this section and realized it was over a week since the last time I posted, so I thought I could tease you all more and break my arc into two chapters. I like caesuras. So next chapter will be clubbing! How'd you feel about the tension? Do we feel it building? I do! I'm going nuts! I just want them to jump each other already! Hahaha**

**Welcome to all my new readers and a super big thank you to everyone who keeps reviewing! Your comments make my world! Like for real!**

**I hope you all enjoy the rest of the week and try not to cry a ridiculous amount during "The Break-Up" Episode this Thursday. I've listened to Mine about a million times. I'm considering skipping class so I can see it live-time, but ugggggh I know I won't. (SuperNerd=me) hahaha**


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks for all the responses to the last chapter! I loved everyone's reactions to some Brittana intensified and thank you for your forgiveness! I promised clubbing and more touchy moments between the two of them. I hope this segment doesn't disappoint!**

**As for that episode of Glee, it was…rough. I don't even know what to say. Yeah. I never felt inspired to write a response to an episode before, but after "The Break Up" I felt compelled to write. I just don't know if I should finish it. Eh. Whatever. I needed to exercise the pain of that episode somehow. **

**Quick answer: Brittana is always endgame in my stories. ;)**

**Needless to say, I am much happier writing…**

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 12**

"_Why did you close the door? I gotta pee!" A voice questioned from beyond the door for the bathroom, but the two girls inside disregarded the plea. "Come on! Open up!"_

_Nails dragged up over dark, thin material. Sensations ran up and down her body and Santana couldn't help as she released a small moan. Brittany loved getting her worked up before they hit the clubs. According to the blonde, it helped get the alcohol from the pre-game working faster. Santana had long since discovered that Brittany just liked to put her in a perpetual state of sexual frustration before they hit the dance floor. It literally put them on the same level. Brittany was insatiable the moment the music started. _

"_Mm-Britt-" Santana hummed into blonde hair. Her fingers gripped at the golden locks as her lover's lips worked slowly up the side of her exposed neck. Brittany had insisted she wear the deep V-neck top with the black skirt for their night out and now, Santana knew why. _

"_Yes?" Brittany asked as she nipped right beneath her ear. _

_Fuck. She always knew the right spot. "Why is Berry banging on our bathroom door?"_

"_I dunno. You're the one who invited her." Brittany pushed forward. Her fingers were steadily inching underneath Santana's tight skirt between her spread legs on the bathroom counter. She smirked as her tongue circled just around the rim of Santana's ear lobe. "You're the softy who always invites her out with us."_

_Her body jumped at the touch of Britt's hot, wet tongue grazing her ear. "Whatever. Can we just get a quickie in before she has to use the bathroom?"_

"_You two have been in there forever! Kurt's already made a second pitcher!" Again, Rachel kept knocking furiously at the wooden door. _

_Britt pulled back and Santana moaned in disapproval. The brunette hissed and attempted to pull the other girl back into her body. "Don't you dare, Brittany Susan Pierce."_

_With the same smirk, Brittany gave her an apologetic look. _

"_I will never forgive you…" Santana threatened. Her dark eyes narrowed as Britt slipped away from her and put her hand on the door knob. "Britt!"_

_But the blonde was having none of it. Her eyes sparkled. "I'm sure I'll think of some way to work myself back into your good graces by the end of the night."_

_Heat blossomed in Santana's cheeks at the words and the promise to make her scream by the end of the night in those baby blues. Santana moaned and arched her back even though the source of her frustration was now too far away to rub herself on. The sound of the door creaking snapped Santana's eyes open. They first darted to a disapproving glare from Rachel and then to the smug expression on Britt's face. Feeling control slipping, Santana hopped from the counter and walked past Britt. Her hands playfully slapped at Britt's cheek very softly. "That was very naughty, Brittany."_

_But Santana wasn't done. She now looked at Rachel whose scowl had only deepened. "And Berry, enjoy the bathroom time, but I wouldn't put anything on the counter. It might be a little wet and not from washing my hands…"_

"_Absolutely uncalled for." Rachel shook her head with disgust. "Absolutely uncalled for! You should be locked up – especially you, Santana Lopez. Ugh!"_

"_Wanky." _

_Rachel stormed past both girls with a finger pointing from the tall blonde to the short brunette unable to form any other words. After Rachel slammed the door, Brittany and Santana exchanged a glance. Their laughter could be heard all over the apartment. _

"_Shut up!" Rachel cried from inside the bathroom, but it only made them laugh louder. Kurt called them into the kitchen to help him finish off the next round of drinks. _

* * *

"Hurry up in there!" Santana banged on the door of the bathroom. They were once again in Puck's apartment. Puck had brought over some of Santana's clothes before they would transport her to a new location. Thus, she was once again in his apartment. Her fist hit the wood louder and harder each time, but the occupant was quite obviously ignoring her. "Come on!

"Fuck it!" The voice inside yelled.

A long and incomprehensible string of other cusses accompanied banging noises and something being thrown at the door. This was followed by yet another yell of frustration as Santana concluded that Brittany must have broken whatever she had thrown. "Are you done destroying the bathroom? I swear if that noise was you breaking the only mirror in Puck's apartment, I'll kill you!"

"It's not the fucking mirror, Santana!" Brittany yelled back frustrated. "I'm sure you've got one in your purse to look at!"

"Just let me in." Santana hit the door one more time. Her forehead rested for a moment. From beyond the door, she could hear Britt shifting around. Even if Santana couldn't technically hear it, she knew Britt was grinding her teeth in frustration at that very moment. "B…just open the door. I can help zip you up or do your make-up. Whatever it is just let me in. Please, Britt. You sound like you're turning into the Incredible Sue-Hulk and I know you haven't kept contact with her."

Despite her anger, Brittany couldn't stop herself as she snorted in amusement. Santana heard the reaction and smiled knowing she had gotten through to her. Again, Santana could only imagine Brittany weighing her options at the moment. All it took was five more seconds and she heard Brittany pushing off whatever furniture she was on in the bathroom and head towards the door. Santana pulled back from the door right as Brittany opened it. Standing before her, the blonde looked – incredible. Brittany wore a short tight fitting black dress and her hair flowed freely in loose locks around her face. Green eye shadow highlighted the brightness in her eyes.

But Santana wasn't looking at how absolutely gorgeous the P.I. appeared. No, her eyes were fixated on Brittany's problem. Her knuckles were exposed for the first time in a few days since her "interrogation" with Chester. Santana hadn't noticed them before because they had been stealthily disguised beneath clean white wraps. Apparently Brittany didn't have the softest touch when it came to dressing the wounds. Blood, strands of the bandages, some sort of ointment, and a variety of other things hung from her hand.

"Shit, Britt…"

"Shut up." Brittany let out an exasperated sigh and kicked the door open the rest of the way. She moved back so Santana could come. She sat back on the counter of the sink and held her hand out in both the most aggressive and adorably vulnerable way. "Just help me."

Santana scrunched her mouth to side afraid that whatever she said would break Brittany's tentative truce when she opened the door. Without another word, Santana shook her head and reached for a clean cloth in the linen closet. Brittany didn't move an inch, but watched. Seeing that the blonde would cooperate, Santana leaned into her body on the counter. Britt fidgeted at the feel of Santana almost pressed up against her. "Be still." Santana warned. She turned the water to wet the cloth and Britt instantly relaxed again. "You're a mess."

Blue eyes observed as all the chaos that had been clinging to her arm disappeared as Santana wiped it clean. "Dr. Mitchell has been changing it in the mornings. He didn't get to today so I didn't clean my hand yet."

"You haven't cleaned it since last night?"

"No." Brittany's eyes lowered to watch the Latina's fingers reach for the anti-bacterial cream on the counter.

The cream felt cool against her skin, but when Santana's fingers barely grazed her knuckles as she wrapped the cloth around, Brittany felt feverish once more. "It's looking better."

"Not really. There hasn't been time to heal." Brittany breathed sharply through her nose at the contact.

Santana's hands immediately froze. She thought she might have hurt Britt. "Are you okay? Too tight? I can loosen it."

Pink flooded the blonde's cheeks. She was being ridiculous and she didn't want to admit that wasn't a noise of pain, but one of heightened stimulation from Santana touching her. Quickly, she mumbled. "Yeah, but it's fine. Keep going."

It didn't take long for Santana to finish wrapping and reach for the tape. As she stretched it over, Santana risked a glance up. This was the first time since the evidence stacks they had invaded each other's personal space. It had gotten…heated before and already standing this close, Santana could feel what should have been emptiness between them filling with warmth. "You should have just asked me to help you. I would have and you wouldn't have had to break Puck's first aid kit."

Both eyes glanced to the floor where the plastic box's hinges had broken and band-aids scattered all over the tile. "Maybe…"

Santana shook her head with a grin. "You know. I'm supposed to be the stubborn bitch. I don't think Puck could handle two of them in his place."

"I think you left your crown here so someone had to pick it up." Brittany said with a smirk.

But Santana wasn't easily defeated. "It doesn't look good on you. Maybe you should relinquish to Macklin. It'd look better on him anyway."

Britt laughed at the image in her head of Macklin in a tiara and Santana pleasantly joined. Joy didn't last long for the blonde as Santana pulled away. They both awkwardly looked at each other. Britt decided she should leave before she ruined their easy mood. "I should let you have the bathroom. Thanks for my hands." She raised them with a smile and took a step to leave, but stopped. A sudden burst of courage and playfulness returned tenfold. "Although, I don't see why you need the full length mirror; you look incredible."

Her fingers twitched as she almost tipped Santana the brim of her hat before she realized it wasn't yet on her head. Knowing how to play it, Brittany closed the door and left without waiting to see Santana's reaction. Her body shook. That had been stupid. They were just starting to be comfortable and now, here she was, Brittany Reckless Pierce, daring to push it further. In Santana's presence, Brittany couldn't help herself.

Besides, to not say anything would have been a crime. Santana's outfit screamed "fuck me" and "unreachable" all at the same time. The short blue dress scandalously complimented her toned and bronze legs that seemed just a shade or two darker than Britt remembered. It had to be that California sun. Just as Brittany finally felt herself calming from Santana's proximity, the door to the apartment burst open behind her.

"Pierce?"

"Puckerman?" Brittany, mocking, returned the dumbass look on Puck's face.

"What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" Britt continued to mock him.

"Stop it! This is _my_ apartment! What are you doing? And why do you look like a call girl?" Puck eyed her up and down. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen Brittany in anything but that ridiculous P.I. outfit with the suspenders, hat, tie, and attitude. He knew she was hot, but they were way past that point in their relationship. Eyeing her now, Puck wanted to smack himself in the head – both heads – for not at least trying to make a pass at her in the past few years. Damn.

"Stop staring, asshole, and give me a light." Brittany dug into the clutch she had chosen out for their night. Puck flipped Britt his lighter as he shrugged out of his own jacket and tie. Britt took a long drag before she threw it back to him. He caught it and walked into the other room. They were comfortable enough around each other so he didn't even bother to close his bedroom door as he got changed. Brittany definitely wasn't interested anyway. But he seemed kinda rushed and distracted. Britt narrowed her eyes curious. "What's got you running out of here so fast?"

Puck froze. He hated how Brittany could easily pick up on the simplest emotions and reactions. "Nothing and I'm just going out. Nowhere special."

She took another hit. Her eyes sparkled as she watched him switching ties back and forth in his closet like he was a 16 year old boy going out on his first real date. "Sure, Puck. So you got a date or something?"

"No!" He yelled and looked over at her with two ties in his hand. Britt nonchalantly pointed at the one in his left hand. Nodding, he tossed the other one and walked back into the foyer where Brittany leaned casually against the wall. "Maybe. It's just something stupid and nothing's going to happen. In fact, it might be an early night. I think she wants something from me and I don't want to give it to her."

Now that piqued Britt's interest. "Oh yeah? You have a rule about not hooking up on the first date? If she wants on your dick the first round, I'd say go for it and then cut her loose in the morning."

Puck stood still as Brittany wrapped the tie around his neck so she could tie it properly. "Please. You should know me better."

"I do, so that's why I'm a little confused why you're afraid of giving it up like a teenage girl." Brittany teased as she pulled the knot into position.

"Thanks." He pulled it up and readjusted it. "And no, it's not the sex. I think she wants to use… my badge."

"Wanky." Santana called from the bathroom door. She wore the same amused grin as Brittany. "Got a date?"

"God! What is wrong with me? Do I have a sign posted on my back? Yes! I do! And it's none of your business!"

"Might as well have a sign. I could smell that cologne in the bathroom, Noah." Santana teased. She had been standing there for the past few minutes while they talked and Brittany adjusted his tie. Somewhere in the time she had been away and the moments of darkness, Puck had been here for Brittany. Watching them act like an old married couple or brother and sister for two minutes reminded Santana why she owed Puck a lot. And why she didn't quite fit in their shared friendship and space. There wasn't enough room.

Puck was about to yell again when he noticed Santana's outfit. It was hard to miss. Brittany might have been staring at the brunette's legs, but his eyes were planted on the amount of cleavage she was aptly showing. Super damn. The two of them would be turning heads all night.

Wait. His eyes flickered back and forth between them. Conclusions and assumptions flew all over the place. "Where are you two going? Oh no. Please. Please. Please don't tell me you're going undercover as prostitutes! Please! Because the chief would kill me! No undercover shit. Besides you two are terrible at it! At least Lopez sucks! Last time we did undercover she made me strip and took all my clothes!"

"That was in high school!" Santana snapped and gave him a look. "And at least I didn't blow the cover. Besides you're the one who thought undercover meant wearing a disguise that would literally get you under the covers with some MILFS. While we're at it, your idea of a disguise was that nasty porn stache! And you're the one who spilled the beans to Brittany. She had no idea what we were doing there until _after_ you opened your mouth. You got me in a shit ton of trouble."

"You got yourself into that." Puck shot back. A flash of memories shared between the three of them passed. Santana had enlisted Puck to help her spy on some guy she thought was moving in on Brittany. It had turned out that the guy had been a thirteen year old kid and Santana's fears had been totally unfounded. *See _Lord Tubbington: Private Eye_

"No undercover. We are going out." Brittany huffed, but avoided eye contact.

It was a good thing too. Puck frowned and tried to catch those blue eyes, but Brittany stubbornly played with her hair. He ignored Santana for a moment and took two steps to close the gap between them. "Are you kidding me right now, Pierce? A few days ago you wanted to run from her or kill her or whatever and now you're running off playing teenage love birds again?"

Brittany growled as he stepped into her space. She disliked the grip he had on her forearm and even more the words he offered. Mostly because they were thoughts she had been trying to suppress since Santana had so tenderly cleaned her hand. She took back her arm, but matched his low and angry whispers with her own. "No! Of course not! We're following a lead and we need to be able to get into the club. And fuck you! You know what happened so you know this isn't a game."

"A lead? Seriously? And you weren't going to tell me?"

"It's not like a real lead. And back off. We're also part of this investigation."

"If it's not a real lead, what are you two doing?" Puck looked back at Santana who stood leaning against the wall with raised eyebrows bordering on annoyance.

"It is a real lead. Just not one we are willing to share yet. It'll probably turn out to be nothing." Britt gave him a little shove to put some space between them. "Okay?"

"You're going to need back-up." Puck asserted.

Brittany snorted as she put out the cigarette on the tray. "I remember the last time you tried to back me up at Reckloose."

"Reckloose? Forget it! You two can go without me." Puck ran a hand over his head.

"You sure?" Santana teased. "We might need some big strong man backing us up."

"Yeah. No thanks." Puck started to collect his gun and badge. "Wait. Why are you following a lead to a gay bar? Does this have to do with the latest victim? Was she batting for the other team?"

"Actually…" Santana started to say, but paused to check with Brittany. Now that they were "working" together, she didn't want to ruin any of Brittany's complicated relationships with the police department. Britt understood why she didn't continue, but gave her a head nod to share the information with Puck. Santana decided to not mention anything about the matchbook in Rachel's things as that would lead to more questions. "We got the lead from Felicia. She hadn't mentioned it to the police at the time because even four years ago, it wasn't a good atmosphere to admit she had just left a gay bar. So we're just going to flash around her picture and see if anyone remembers anything."

"I see. And the outfits?"

"Undercover."

"Not sure how your outfits cover anything…" Puck muttered and shook his head. "If you need me, give me a call."

"We wouldn't want to disturb you on your date." Santana drank from the glass on the table. Brittany apparently had started the party early with some of Puck's liquor stash. It was just straight up whiskey of some kind – no, Santana knew the difference between good stuff and whatever this was. She set the glass back down.

"Not a date." Puck pulled his jacket on.

"Sure, Romeo. If _you_ need backup, give me a call." Santana winked at him.

"Oh!" Puck shook off the gesture. "Before I forget, the chief said that you need to collect the rest of your belongings from the hotel you were at and he will call you about a safe house location."

"Safe house? Really?" Now she wasn't amused.

He shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, Tan, but he doesn't want to take any chances and I don't either. Safe house or he's gonna give you your own room down in the station where he can lock you up."

"That may be the better option of the two." She huffed under her breath. "Fine. Safe house." She rolled her eyes and glanced over to where Brittany was standing by the door. "Ready?"

"Yeah, let's get this over with." Brittany opened Puck's front door and Santana made to follow her. She stopped when an object caught her eye on the table. Brittany's hat.

"Don't forget your hat." Santana picked it up and lazily tossed it across the room. Confidently, Britt nabbed it out of the air and placed it on her head with one fluid motion. Puck groaned as the two women left his home. He had a feeling there was no scenario possible in which Santana and Brittany could enter a gay club together and somehow come out unscathed. All he kept hearing was Macklin's voice yelling at him. Her shit was his shit.

Needless to say, he was fucked.

* * *

"_It's not a date." Rachel said with a mysterious smile. She bit her bottom lip in a coy manner she reserved for only a select few. Santana couldn't help as she rolled her eyes and took another shot. A sixth sense for all things blonde, tall, beautiful, and tipsy enticed her gaze to slide to the far left where Brittany was drinking while Kurt talked about the aesthetics of her outfit. Her girlfriend was shifting anxiously and trying to sit still as Kurt flipped her hair and touched the material with a few more comments. _

"_Hook-ups are better. Good for you, Berry. Shame you're not going to make another trip to the club with us."_

"_Ugh. You're hopeless. I don't even know why I bother to talk to you."_

"_Because you know Britts and I are the most fun you have."_

"_Not true." _

_Santana turned away from Britt for half a second to give Rachel a look. _

"_I have fun with Kurt and Quinn when she comes to visit. So I have no idea what you're implying."_

"_Whatever, Berry. You know it's just better with us, but have fun on your date tonight." Santana half-heartedly said. Her full attention now shifted to Brittany. Kurt was fluffing her hair up and trying to get the ringlets to stay while Brittany fiddled with one of his animal brooches. She must not have heard Kurt tell her to stop moving because she continued to touch his hair and feel the material of his shirt. _

"_You are impossible and these curls aren't staying!" Kurt threw his hands up in exasperation. "Here put this on."_

_Kurt stuffed a hat on her head. Santana couldn't contain the small laugh that escaped from her lips at the two. It was hard to believe they had never spent quality time together except that strange time when they had dated for like two days. But they did share a common interest. Kurt and Britt had most definitely been the most fashionable students during their time at McKinley High School. Since coming to New York, Kurt continued to try and define most of Britt's fashion sense and always failed. They were so incompatible, it became an endless source of entertainment for Rachel and Santana to watch as one unicorn failed to communicate to another unicorn. "A hat? Isn't that like bad Rachel style?"_

"_What!?" Rachel scoffed._

"_No, it looks good on you with your big blonde hair. Trust me. Try it out tonight and see how many of the ladies hit on you."_

_Now it was Santana's turn to be offended. "Watch it, Porcelain. I don't need other ladies hitting on my girl. But…" Santana bit her bottom lip as she slid from the chair at the kitchen island and sashayed into Brittany's body. "I do think it's really hot."_

"_My work here is done." Kurt inched his way around the two girls making out and rejoined Rachel. "I'm going out as well so I guess we will all see each other later."_

"_Perfect. Besides Quinn is coming into the city tomorrow and I want to make sure we all get to have some time with her this time."_

"_No keeping her to yourself this time, Berry." Santana pulled back from Britt's lips for a half-second. _

"_I didn't realize that catching up with her would take all day, Santana. I've already apologized for this a thousand times."_

"_Whatever. Q has some answering to do as well. So when I see her tomorrow, I'll give her a piece of my mind."_

_Brittany smiled softly as she tugged at the front of Santana's dress. The brunette instantly allowed herself to be pulled back into the taller girl's body. "I don't want you giving pieces of yourself away. I want you all to myself."_

"_All yours, babe." Santana completely forgot other people were in the room. She fell back into Britt's embrace. Her hands played with the edges of the hat Kurt had placed on Brittany's head. The blonde's fingers danced up and along her chin. Even with heels on, Britt still had some height on Santana so she had to push up from her calves to reach those waiting lips. _

"_Ahem." Kurt coughed. "If you two don't leave, you'll never get to the actual club."_

_Santana rolled her eyes at the other two before grabbing onto Brittany. She made sure to wink at Rachel as she passed. "Make sure you get some tonight."_

"_Not a date! It's a study meeting!"_

"_Then why are you all dressed up?" Santana called back with a wave of her arm. An exasperated sigh could be heard as the door closed behind the two women on their way down out of the apartment to catch the taxi Kurt had called for them. _

* * *

It wasn't very late when they got to the bar. In fact, it was rather early for a club. But Brittany wanted to make sure they could talk to the owner and a few of workers. Bouncers stood in the doorway where a line would form later. "Kinda early, ladies. Club doesn't really open till 10:30."

Brittany nodded as he told her, but that didn't stop her approach. Santana's eyes left the conversation and looked up at the lights above the doorway. All the times she had wandered back into this club after hitting a few other places. They would always end their night here. It wasn't the greatest, but it had the best music – well, the best music for dancing. When Brittany got going, nothing could stop her. The pink glow from the light surrounding the word Reckloose lingered in Santana's eye sight as she returned to the conversation.

"Not a problem. We actually aren't here for the club. I was wondering if Sharon was around." Brittany flashed her license quickly from the pocket of her jacket.

The bouncer was less than impressed. "Let me see it again."

He waited for Brittany to hand the actual license over. Without saying another word to the blonde, he reached for his headset. "Sharon, there's a P.I. out here requesting to speak with you. You aren't obligated to talk to her without a warrant."

"Thanks…" Brittany muttered sarcastically as he handed back the license with a triumphant smirk. Apparently, not all bouncers were slow and this one had experience with law enforcement before.

A voice came back on his radio. "A P.I.? Is she blonde and drop dead gorgeous with blue eyes?"

The bouncer didn't seem pleased that Sharon knew exactly who was looking for her. "Yeah, and there's another here too."

"Shit. Is he bigger with a buzz cut and an arrogant attitude?"

At that description, all three of the people outside the club looked at each other strangely. Santana winked at him and he drew out the long 'o' in his answer. Some time ago, he had learned to never assume anything about the patrons of a club like this. "No…I'm pretty sure it's a woman and she's not bad looking either."

"Oh good! Then let them in!" The radio went dead.

"You can go on it." He moved away from the door to let them through.

Reckloose was a typical club – dark, full of neon lights and with strange places to sit. Everything surrounded a central area. A circular stage with poles for dancing and a dance floor around it; the DJ booth was in the far corner and bars were spread around in strategic locations. But since the club was opening in a half-hour, lights were dimly lit around and the work crew hustled about to swiftly set up the DJ equipment and get everything ready for a late night.

"Some things never change…" Santana muttered from behind. Britt smiled softly because she wasn't sure if Santana knew she was speaking out loud.

"Hey sexy!" A short blonde haired woman stepped out from behind the closest bar to their left. She waved at the two women to join her up there. Sharon was in her mid-forties and an incredible business owner. In the few years she had opened Reckloose, it quickly became a hot spot attracting both her targeted lesbian crowd, but also a few nights dedicated to straight-up clubbing. It helped keep her business running. "You're lucky you didn't bring your little friend this time. As much as I enjoyed him the last time, I'm afraid round two and he'd be shutting my place down."

Santana scrunched her face in confusion. "What little friend?"

"You know the guy with the police badge." Sharon finally turned to see who else Brittany brought. She blinked hard a few times. "Santana Lopez, the sky must be falling and it's the end of the world because I know that's the only reason you'd show back up here with blue eyed lady killer."

"Not yet, but close enough." Santana responded as she took a seat at the bar next to Brittany. The owner leaned over to kiss her cheek amicably and then did the same with Britt. "Why would you ever bring Puck here?"

The questioning turned back to the P.I. but Sharon answered. "Well from what I could gather from that night, they were celebrating his promotion around the city at different bars. By the time they rolled up here, they were both plastered. Him more than this one here. She threw him into the dance floor and came sneaking over to me smelling like liquor and giggling."

Brittany shrugged and rolled her eyes.

"She told me she brought her friend because he wanted to meet some girls and she knew the _perfect_ place. Needless to say, he started hitting on some of my clients and one of them hit back, literally."

"Oh, Britt…" Santana looked at the blonde who flashed her the guiltiest smile.

"I was drunk?" Britt offered.

"Oh, but that's not the end of the story. Someone found his cuffs and by the end of the night he was locked up, dancing on center stage on one of the stripper poles. He woke up the next morning and I don't think he even remembered his name."

"No wonder he practically ran away when you mentioned where we were going." Santana shook her head, but couldn't help it as she began to laugh. "You're an ass."

"What?" Brittany laughed with her. "He said he wanted to meet some ladies. And he did just that."

The radio cracked. "Quarter after ten, Sharon. Line is starting outside. Hitting the lights and everything's ready. The ice machine is broken again. I already sent someone to get some bags from the store."

Sharon held up her finger to the women as she responded. "All good on my end. Thanks."

The lights began to dim right after she spoke, but Sharon didn't even notice. "As much as I love catching up with you ladies about how difficult you make life for men, what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Wish I could say it's pleasure that brings us here." Santana said solemnly.

"Honey, seeing you back here in like forever is pleasure in itself." Sharon said as she began to fix them some drinks. "What can I get for you two?"

"Whiskey." Britt answered. "And stop flirting so shamelessly."

"Britt dearest, she's single and available. I can flirt all I want. Besides, it's not flirting. I'm way out of both your leagues."

The two women scoffed. Santana looked back at the row of liquor behind Sharon. "I'll just do a cranberry and vodka."

"No tequila?"

Santana gave her a look.

"Cranberry and vodka it is." Sharon turned around and expertly began making the drinks, not that either of them took much effort. "So you still haven't answered my question."

Brittany pulled out her phone and scrolled to the picture of the matchbook. "We were wondering if you recognized the handwriting on this matchbook. We know it's a long shot, but we'd be really grateful if you took a close look at it."

"Sure." Sharon took the phone as she placed down the drinks on the counter over some napkins. Brittany instantly knocked hers back without a second's pause while Santana's eyes hovered over the rim of her own glass watching both blondes intently. "Oh would you look at this. This thing is an oldie, but goodie. I always loved this design. We haven't used this logo in the past two years. Are you two looking for a mysterious girl that you hooked up with? You know I don't give that kind of information out."

The phone was handed back. Brittany took it curiously, peering into Sharon's eyes. The owner took Britt's glass and filled it back up. "So you do know who wrote this?"

"Sure I do. But you know it's against my policy to help my customers hook up with each other. Women can get so pushy and want information about everyone. It's time-consuming."

"Sharon." Santana placed the drink down onto the napkin with a soft smile. "Do you really think either of us would be coming to you for help hooking up with people?"

"Ha! The arrogance of youth. Give it a few years from now when you realize your best days are behind you and you have so much baggage people will start to think you're an airport terminal. Then you'll be asking me to hook you back up with some old flame you used to get with here."

"But we're not quite there yet. This isn't for a hook-up. It's for an investigation."

"You don't look like you're here for an investigation." She glanced towards the phone again. "I should know that handwriting anywhere. You're not looking for a patron. Lindsey Rowan. She used to work here awhile ago as a waitress and bus girl. She's a good girl. She was putting herself through school working here when she did. Why do you want her? She's not in trouble is she?"

"No, nothing like that. We're just hoping she can help shed some light on a few questions we have. Mutual acquaintances and all that. It's related to a case we're working." Brittany threw back the second drink right as Santana was finishing her own. "Do you have her contact info?"

"Yeah, give me a second." Sharon picked up her radio. "Open when you're ready."

The lights died and music started up in the background as Sharon walked away. Santana looked at her empty glass. "Need another one?"

Brittany nodded. The brunette turned in her stool and lightly hopped up onto the counter with her ass hugging the edge. "What are you doing?"

"I'll make you a drink. I used to do a little drink work."

"Santana." Brittany grinned. "You worked at a sports bar for two weeks. I don't think that counts."

"More experience than you have." Santana scooted backwards across the counter until she realized where Britt's eyes were. The brunette instantly crossed her legs and shot the blonde a warning look which bordered on flirtation. A hot flush ran up Santana's cheeks thinking about those blue eyes searching out her body. When she reached the other side of the counter, she easily flipped off to stand where Sharon had been. "Unless you count taking straight shots of bottom shelf liquor as experience."

Brittany pursed her lips at the accusation, but said nothing else.

"So, Ms. Pierce, what can I get you? And _don't_ tell me you want more of the same."

Long fingers circled around the rim of her glass as she thought about what Santana could make. "Double Penetration? Cum Bucket? Blow Job?"

Santana made a face at all the drink names and shook her head with a laugh. "Nasty."

"Well start making'em, bartender." Brittany winked at her.

"Ha! Do you want me to get thrown out of here? Sharon would die hearing those being ordered here." Santana began to pull out various drinks from behind the bar. She only hesitated a little when she looked at the liquor shelf behind her before grabbing the Malibu and adding that to her mix. Brittany's eyes lingered on Santana's backside as she turned around and reached for yet another bottle. It was hard not to stare at her with that tight dress clinging perfectly to her ass. Finally, the brunette turned back with a triumphant look on her face and slapped the drink down on the counter. "Here ya go."

Brittany leaned back in her stool for a moment. Her eyes never left Santana's, even when it became obvious she wasn't going to look down at the drink. The brunette shifted under the intense stare, but didn't break it. The noise of women flirting through the door made them aware of the surrounding world. Finally, Brittany leaned forward over the bar and grasped the drink in her hand. Those blue eyes still held Santana's gaze as her tongue grazed over the rim of the glass before tipping it back.

Santana's eyes shifted from Brittany's to intently watch as Brittany's lips parted to drink the liquid. The clear glass allowed her to see her pink tongue and lips make contact with the fluid.

"Should I even ask what you're doing back here?" Sharon returned with a slip of paper in her hand. Her eyebrows arched at the scene unfolding between the two women as if she had been standing there for more than a few seconds.

Brittany smiled finally turning away from her partner and placed the drink down. "It's a little too sweet for my taste. Besides, I know that a Malibu Bay Breeze is the only drink you learned how to make while you worked at that bar.

"Maybe it's been too long since you had anything sweet to remember when it used to taste good." Santana didn't turn to Sharon yet. "The only reason I remember how to mix them is because you were the only one who would order them."

"Should I stay? Or do you two intend to eye fuck each other for a few more minutes?" Sharon asked playfully. She held out the paper for Brittany. "She gave me that number when she left. I always thought she'd be back here after a few months. Most girls come back, but I guess Lindsey was one of the few who made it out. Make sure you give her a hello for me."

Santana blushed and turned from Brittany at Sharon's comment. She hopped back onto the bar counter and slid over to her stool once again.

"Thanks, Sharon. You're the best and we will." The paper was shoved into Brittany's clutch. Brittany stood up to go and the older woman shot her another look.

"So you're leaving already? I know you didn't get dressed up just to see me. Why don't you two stay? Open tab. Help yourselves even if you already were…" It was a friendly offer and Brittany's eyes didn't glance to Santana, but instead to the glass on the counter. "How many times have I offered to pay for your tab, lady killer? Think of it as a welcome back gift to Santana. It's nice to see you back here, hun. I gotta go help with a few things, but I'll let my crew know you guys don't pay tonight."

Graciously, Santana smiled in a thank you to Sharon's offer. "You don't have to."

"But I want to. Besides you haven't been in here in forever so you're practically new blood and I love watching new blood in my club especially when it's as hot as you." Sharon winked at her before she walked away.

"So…" Brittany turned around to once again face Santana, but her words caught in her throat. It should have been an innocent gesture – a common, but forgettable moment – just a woman drinking from a glass. Yet both women knew it was something else. Santana held in her hand Brittany's drink. Her lips parted at the rim where the faintest outline of Brittany's lips had left their mark. Dark eyes peered over the liquid as Santana took a prolonged sip.

When the empty cup hit the counter, Santana finally said, "I think we should stay."

* * *

Music filled what little spaces were between bodies throughout Reckloose. The DJ kept the music fast and the bass deep while bodies bumped up against each other to the influence of music and alcohol. Brittany stood at the far end of the dance floor chatting to a tiny red head about – whatever. She was focused on something much more appealing. Bright blue eyes lingered the opposite side of the bar where a smoking hot brunette chatted comfortably with a few women. Her legs crossed underneath the short material of her tight dress made Brittany's heart beat just a little faster.

The girl next to her kept talking; Brittany's tongue ran over her upper lip as she watched the brunette take yet another sip of her drink. Britt couldn't remember how long they had been at the club drinking, but she already felt tipsy. The music was louder and always good, the drinks went down faster, and the heat was inviting.

"It's not easy being an editor-" The woman was still talking and Brittany nodded. Her sight still set on her unsuspecting prey. "Under appreciated-"

"That's nice…"

"Well not really." She didn't stop gabbing.

Another body pushed through the crowd and blocked Britt's sight of the hot brunette at the bar. Finally Brittany realized she had been leering when she made eye contact with the woman who stood in the way of her quarry. The blonde coming at her smirked knowingly. "Already trying to make a killing, Britt?"

Brittany smirked as she recognized one of her regular hook-ups. "Checking out my options."

The blonde laughed lightly. "I'm sure you are. Well, I heard that she used to come around here awhile ago so I don't know if that counts as fresh meat, but…you know I'm available."

"Oh I know." Brittany responded, now purposely turning away from the seated woman and giving all her attention to the blonde's come on. "Why don't you show me what I've been missing?"

Smoothly, Britt took the other woman's hand and pulled her through the crowd to the middle of the dance floor. The P.I. forgot the world as she moved into bodies around her gyrating to the beat.

* * *

Santana laughed. Her legs crossed underneath her tight dress as she sat at the bar and allowed another woman to buy her a drink. This was the fourth woman to seek out her attentions and offer to buy her something. Needless to say, Santana was feeling pretty loose. Her fingers were tingling and her brain was just starting to make everything seem like she was looking out from a glass. "So you say that you work as a yoga instructor?"

"I absolutely love it and I am so in tune with my body." The woman said. "So it's hard to find another woman who shares my passion for body excellence, but you…you most certainly take care of yourself. Do you do yoga? I would love to get you into my class."

Santana tried not to laugh at her offer. It was sweet – corny, but earnest. Errant thoughts ran freely through her mind as she tried to imagine just how flexible that meant the woman truly was. Maybe she should take up the offer, just to know if yoga really did change the game. "I'm not in town for very long, but thanks for the offer."

"I can give you a private lesson then when you have some time before you leave the city." She persisted. "Here's my number. Call me up some time."

The woman reached over Santana's body to grab the receipt from the bartender and a pen. Quickly, she wrote her number out for Santana. Her fingers lingered over Santana's hand as she passed the paper along. Smirking, Santana inclined her head politely. With a smile, she slipped the paper into her clutch. "I will."

It was the first time she could take a breath without having to share her space with another woman trying to get a crack at her. Sharon hadn't been kidding. But before she could even take that sigh of relief, another woman saddled up on the stool next to her. "Never seen you around here before, can I buy you a drink?"

Santana couldn't stop laughing as she nodded her head 'yes'. It had been awhile since she had gone out just for fun. This wasn't what she imagined returning to New York would entail – might as well live it up. As the newest woman began to talk, blonde hair caught her dark eyes. Santana watched with overwhelming and unfounded curiosity as Britt's hand wrapped around another woman to take her into the fray of bodies dancing. For a moment, Santana debated if she wanted to excuse herself to head in the same direction. Her eyes lingered on the back of Brittany's head till it was consumed by other people. A deep wave flooded her as she realized what it meant to sit on the sidelines and watch Brittany be with another person. When she had left, it had been so quick; Santana never had to face Brittany's attentions elsewhere. Articulation of her feelings became harder to come by. Her lips went back to the glass in her hand. She didn't know if it was good or not that she couldn't see Brittany anymore. A part of her never wanted to see Brittany dancing with anyone else like the way she used to dance with her.

* * *

"_And what do you think you're doing?" Santana bit her bottom lip as she butted her way between Brittany and some random woman at the bar. The woman backed off quickly. Her eyes darted deviously to the dance floor while Brittany only beamed at the return of her girlfriend. "I leave for five minutes to pee and you already have your hands on another woman? What am I going to do with you?"_

"_I know! It's crazy!" Brittany exclaimed without realizing why Santana was wearing her knowing grin. "Like seriously, the second you left to go to the bathroom, she came up and asked me to help her. She said that I had to be a dancer since I have such great moves and that she didn't understand simple rhythm. All of a sudden she was asking me to move her hips in time with the song."_

"_Yeah I'm sure that's exactly what she needed help with." Santana's eyes drifted to see if that woman was still around. The Latina wanted to show her a few tricks as well, but the poacher had scampered off somewhere. Brittany shifted at the mood. She knew Santana wasn't pleased. San realized her glares were making Brittany uncomfortable. The lines in her face softened as she smiled back at Britt. "Come here, B. Maybe you can show me how to move my hips."_

_The smile on Britt's face returned again as she beamed and took a step into Santana's body. The music washed over them._

The alcohol buzzed through her body, but it wasn't enough. It had been forever since Britt allowed herself to just dance. After closing the studio, she went to bars to drink and pick up someone to fuck. Dancing not required. The lights at Reckloose blinked red, blue, green, purple, and orange. Everything blended together as random bodies rubbed up against her.

"_Fuck. You know I love it when you do this." Santana panted in front of Brittany. Strong fingers ran up and down her thighs pushing the material further and further up her legs. One had remained on her left thigh while Brittany's other hand crept up the front of her stomach. It wasn't an exploring hand – no, it was dominating. Santana's back arched into Brittany. The blonde's hand pulled back against her stomach. The movement forced Santana's ass to grind even harder into Brittany's pelvis. _

_Britt's pink lips pushed through strands of sweaty and sticky dark hair. Huskily, her voice cracked as she whispered. "I love dancing with you. I can't wait till we can dance later without clothes."_

_The image of Brittany's naked body pressed against hers in their living room set Santana off. A strangled moan escaped her lips. She reached back with a hand to wrap around the back of Britt's head so the blonde couldn't pull away. Her other hand went about making her fantasy come closer to reality. Charged with Brittany's dirty promises for later, Santana felt no shame as she pressed her hand down the middle of her own body. She imagined it was Brittany's hand touching her as her two fingers dipped between her cleavage on the way down her center. Everything felt so hot – everything felt so good – everything felt like Brittany. Eventually her fingers found the bottom hem of her dress and Brittany's wrist. Bodies were bouncing all around them, but it felt like they were alone. Santana gripped onto the teasing hand which had only been stroking her thigh. Without a second's thought, she forced Brittany's hand up her dress and spread her legs for the blonde. "I need you so bad, B."_

_Brittany's whole body responded to her girlfriend as she pulled Santana's body closer to her own. Her fingers wrapped around the inside of Santana's upper thigh and squeezed for a second. Nothing would stop them now. Without directly touching her, Brittany could feel the heat radiating between their bodies and from between Santana's legs. The thought of Santana's thong soaked made a similar noise get away from the blonde. _

Memories of all the times they had practically fucked while dancing crept through the blonde's body. They were hard to ignore. In fact, she didn't want to ignore them. Her blue eyes searched over heads towards the bar to see if Santana was still there flirting with the line of women clamoring for her attention. A new woman stood next to Santana and they were laughing amicably. Brittany looked back at her dance partner then back to the bar. It didn't take long for her long fluid strides to break free of the bodies in front of the DJ booth. Since Britt approached Santana's back, the brunette didn't know who settled into the space behind her. The blonde cocked her elbow onto the counter and lifted her finger to the bar tender for another whiskey. It took a second before Santana finally turned around in her seat to see who was invading her space.

"Hey." Brittany spoke low and leaned forward so Santana could hear her above the noise of the club.

Unsuspecting, Santana was taken aback at the sight of a flushed and heated Brittany practically pressed against her. She could smell the music and the excitement coursing through her ex-lover's body. Instantly, Santana thought of the many times she could sense Britt getting worked up. They had fucked in the club a few times in the bathroom when Brittany would get so charged it felt like she would explode.

"Hey." Santana responded breathlessly; the other woman completely forgotten.

"I'd ask if I could buy you a drink, but I see you've got everyone imaginable in front of you." Britt bit her bottom look. The alcohol buzzed through her body and the memories of their bodies flushed threw caution out the window. No one had ever made her feel the way Santana did.

Maybe it was the alcohol that the club patrons had been steadily pumping into her, but Santana licked at the rim of her glass. She could barely hear Brittany's voice, but her dark eyes were drawn to those pearly white teeth on the blonde's lip. "I feel like visiting royalty."

Brittany laughed at the sparkling glint in Santana's eyes. "I'm sure the art of courting a lady is a little more subtle than blatantly advertising they want to fuck the princess."

No more laughter. Santana's breathing hitched at the word fuck. Her chocolate colored eyes grew darker as they lidded with Brittany's words and body language. What game were they playing? Was this a game? Santana didn't want to over think anything. She finished her drink and placed it down on the counter without breaking the spell being woven between their eyes. "Like you know anything about courting…"

"You're right…" Brittany smirked and toyed with the brim of the hat on her head. "I normally just take what I want."

"A regular prince charming."

"You can call me anything you want." Brittany flipped the hat off her head and placed it right on Santana. "Maybe I'll see you around."

"Yeah, maybe…" Santana responded even as the blonde turned around and started to walk back towards the dance floor. It took her a few seconds, but she finally reached up to touch the sweaty brim of Brittany's hat – that stupid hat she always wore.

She should take it off.

Her fingers pressed down on the brim to make sure it was securely fastened atop her head without ruining her hair. If she could press down the hat, she could press down the feelings bouncing around in her chest. At least, that's what she told herself. The blonde faded back into the bodies around the stripper poles and the DJ booth until Santana couldn't see her, but all she had to do was close her eyes to vividly remember the way Brittany's body moved. She turned back to continue her conversation with the other woman, but she had disappeared. Santana shrugged before ordering another drink.

* * *

"So tell me, Sharon." Santana swung her legs as she settled into the bar stool in front of their contact at Reckloose. "Who spread a rumor that I have some sort of disease? Did someone say I had the herp or something else? I know this is a bar of women, but word of mouth can't travel that fast."

"What, hun?" Sharon flashed her a confused look even as she continued making drinks for other women at the bar.

Santana rolled her eyes and leaned forward over the glasses on the counter. She clarified. "Why is it that every woman in here is treating me like I carry the plague? Twenty minutes ago I had women all over me. Now, no one will look at me."

Now Sharon outright barked at the question. The older woman stopped making her drinks to lean back over the counter so she was right in Santana's face. Her smile was kind enough, but now Santana worried. "You don't know?"

Completely befuddled, Santana shook her head. "Know what?"

Sharon shook her head. "Youth."

"Sharon…" Santana was starting to worry now.

"You've been marked." Marked wasn't the type of word Santana liked in relation to her body. Her eyes darted down to her hands to see if something was there, but nothing. The older woman's eyes flicked to the hat on top of Santana's head. "You get that from Lady Killer?"

"From Brittany? Why do you keep calling her that?" The urge to fiddle with the hat made Santana's fingers dance along the brim.

"There's a reason she has that name. I didn't give it to her, but everyone in this club knows who she is and, honey, they all know that's her hat."

"What?"

"They know not to even try with you." Sharon went back to creating drinks.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Santana asked – all those hot feelings she had been feeling between her legs and clouding her better judgment mixed with alcohol and indignation.

"Wish I was..." Sharon stated with a frown. "Don't do anything…rash…"

"Of course not." Santana's mouth curled into something she might have thought was a smile.

* * *

The brunette practically leapt from the stool and strode through the club. Her body easily weaving in and out of bodies dancing. She felt her blood boiling and the lights of the club affecting her vision. Her eyes darted left to right as she sought the blonde. It didn't take long. Santana would know that body anywhere. Her dark eyes blazed as she pushed her way towards Brittany and the girl who was dancing against the P.I. at the moment. Maybe it was the scary look in Santana's eyes, but the other woman darted away from Brittany as soon as she caught Santana's stare.

Brittany smirked at Santana. "Can I help you?"

Santana forcefully closed the gap between them and grabbed the blonde's hand. Without waiting for a response, the brunette dragged Brittany from the dance floor and headed towards the bathroom hallway. A few girls winked at them as they passed. Brittany returned their shit-eating grins with one of her own.

"_Bathroom. Now." Santana husked into Brittany's ear as she finally turned around. When she did so, Brittany's fingers between her legs shifted. The loss made Santana clench her thighs together. It was hard to let something so pleasurable slip away. Their eyes met and Brittany nodded licking her chapped lips. Her right hand wrapped possessively around the smaller girl's waist as they danced their way through the club towards the bathroom. They only made_ _it to the entrance of the hallway when Brittany yanked back on Santana's body. _

"_Uh-" Santana's lips parted as she felt her back hit the wall and Brittany's body pressed against hers. "B….bathroom…"_

"_Can't wait." Brittany hiked up the side of Santana's dress and forced her knee between the girl's spread legs. They both moaned as Santana hips rolled to gratuitously grind on Britt. Her soaked thong did not to prevent her wetness from transferring to the other woman's glistening skin. Santana wrapped her arms around Brittany's neck as the blonde completely hiked her up so the only movement Santana could make was to wrap both legs around her girlfriend. Hungry and horny, Santana licked her lips, but Brittany didn't allow her to complete the motion before her teeth captured her bottom lip. With a smirk, the taller girl playfully bit down before she dragged Santana's plump luscious lips out. Santana moaned. Her eyes rolled back, but it wasn't enough. She needed more. Determined, Santana's hands went to either side of Brittany's face. Before Brittany could continue teasing the fuck out of her, Santana demanded. "Bathroom. Now! I want you to fuck me so bad."_

_Britt empathically nodded, but didn't put her down. They kissed hard and deep while Brittany attempted to steer them towards the ladies stalls at the end of the hallway._

Before they made it to the bathroom, Santana rounded on Brittany throwing an accusatory finger in her face. "How dare you!"

The delight of being dragged away by her ex-lover towards their not-so-secret sex stall instantly vanished. "What?"

"What? Really, Britt? Is this all a fucking joke to you?" Santana growled as she ripped the hat off her head. It shook with Santana's alcohol induced rage bouncing in front of Britt's face – up and down.

"I have no idea what you're talking about…" Brittany tried to remember if she had fucked up something. No, they had been flirting all night. What could she have done?

"How dare you put this fucking hat on me like I'm one of your slam pieces for the night! I know we didn't end things very well, but I deserve better than to be treated like a one night stand in your fuck territory. If I'd known this is where you prowl, I would have never agreed to come." Santana growled and pulled the hat back from Brittany's face as she turned away in disgust. "I'm so stupid. It was so stupid to come here with you."

Dark red flashed through Brittany's body. She felt panicked as Santana's words rolled over her. Blue eyes glanced from Santana's fury to the hat in her hand. Without asking, Brittany knew Sharon had told her. Shit.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

That hadn't been the reason – well not really. Shit. A thousand emotions bounded throughout her body. Her chest constricted and tightened as she realized Santana would never forgive her for marking her. Shit. Losing whatever weird budding relationship they were just beginning again would be the death of her. Brittany wanted to make everything right. Everything could go back – if they caught the killer together, somehow everything would be alright.

It had to be okay!

She lunged forward and grabbed onto the other side of the hat and yanked Santana back towards her. Caught unaware, Santana's body flung back towards the blonde so they were now face to face with only the hat between them – each clung to a side of the material for dear life.

"It was stupid, but I didn't do it to mark you. I just didn't want anyone else to have you." Brittany fiercely admitted.

"I'm not yours to decide who can have me and who can't! That's my decision to make!" Santana snapped back. The space between their bodies was rapidly decreasing. Her body tingled with anticipation, alcohol, anger, and…desire. Brittany's words had set off a fuse in her body. Why couldn't she just let Brittany go? She had spent four years trying to erase the sound of her voice and the feel of her body; it only took a week back in New York and she could feel everything around her crumbling again. All the precautions she had erected were failing.

"And what if I wanted to change that?" Brittany's bravado hadn't failed yet. Her other hand reached out to cup Santana's face. The brunette froze at the touch of those finger tips grazing over her cheek, but she didn't flinch away. The material of the hat between them finally tore from the strain of their strong holds. The ripping fabric made Santana tilt backwards and stumble a few feet away – a sizeable chunk of the black hat remained in her hand. They looked up. The sound of their pounding hearts drowned out the bass of the DJ. Santana's heart thumped so hard so thought it would break her chest.

What if she wanted to change that? What if she wanted to change that? What if Brittany wanted her? What if every time she looked into those blue eyes, they stopped her heart? What if she couldn't push away those feelings the blonde stirred in her?

What if she wanted Brittany?

What if she had made the biggest mistake of her life by walking away four years ago?

Santana's fingers rolled around the material in her hand before she broke eye contact and walked back into the club. She picked up the first shot glass offered to her from a waitress and downed it. She grabbed a random woman from the crowd to dance with.

_The door in the bathroom stall whacked open as Brittany crashed Santana's body into the metal. It swung on its hinges for a half second before the blonde slammed it back locked. Santana's face hovered above her own. Those delicious fingers ran through the golden locks on her head. At first they had toyed and teased, but now they dug and tangled around her digits as Santana sought leverage. Britt's fingers were already pushing aside the flimsy material underneath her girl's sinfully short dress. "San, you're so wet."_

_Brittany could have been reciting the Pledge of Allegiance and Santana would have still cummed at that moment. All it took was her girlfriend's incredibly sexy voice to penetrate her ears and her pussy was throbbing. Her back arched against the metal door as she panted harder and harder. Brittany's mouth opened in appreciation of how hot her girlfriend was when she was in the midst of an orgasm. Her tongue darted around her lips unable to contain how turned on she was. "I haven't even stuck a finger in you yet…"_

"_Please, Britt. Please." Santana's eyes had yet to open. Her hips lurched forward as she tried to rub herself out again on Brittany's waiting fingers between her legs. Her dress had finally given up trying to cover her. The material had rolled up her stomach and settled underneath her heaving tits as she continued to gasp for air. Britt ripped the thong down Santana's leg so it hung caught on her pumps. One hand held up the girl's leg while her other hand ran along Santana's soaking slit – up and down. She loved seeing the ecstasy on San's face. When Britt knew that she wouldn't be able to take anymore, she slid her finger between those burning hot folds and moaned in tandem as another orgasm tore through her lover's body. _

* * *

Her head pounded. It had been so long since she had felt this hung-over. In fact, it had been a really long time since she had blacked out. Memories were hazy. She could taste various alcoholic drinks in her mouth. She remembered some things – Sharon, the bouncer, a few of the women who had hit on her, dancing –

This wasn't Puck's apartment. The realization shocked her from her haze. She wanted to bolt up in the bed, but if this wasn't Puck's apartment, then she had no idea where she was. Or more importantly, who she was with. After she finally started to calm down, Santana braced herself to get up. Again, something stopped her. She looked over to her left hand and opened it slowly. She had been holding a piece of thick dark material all night.

No, not just any material, Santana's gut dropped as she remembered where it had originally come from.

Brittany's hat.

She squeezed her eyes hard. Why did everything have to be so confusing?

Why did she have to drink so much?

* * *

**AHHHH These two are going to be the death of me. Lots of stuff coming up! Lots! :D Thanks again for all the reviews and once again hi to everyone just joining us! Have a great week and I hope we can all get through the hiatus in one emotional piece. **

**Hope you enjoyed this extra long chapter! I'm excited for the next one. **


	13. Chapter 13

**RIP Ladykiller's hat. Hahaha best epitaph ever. **

**Blown away by the amount of responses and reviews from last chapter. Thank you! My readers make writing a thousand times more enjoyable. Sorry about the cliffhangers, but they are where my chapter arcs normally end. Plus I gotta make you guys come back for more! ;) Haha**

**Now onto…**

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 13**

"Not a problem. But do you know where she is?" Puck spoke into the phone as he slipped into the apartment building. His lips pursed at the answer on the other side of the line.

"Yea, I get it. You need me to clean up your mess. That's fine. But there's someone out there looking for her and not in a good way. I don't see how you could have just let her go off."

Another response.

"Fuck you, Pierce, I know what it means to get black out drunk. I'm just saying it was stupid and reckless. Haha. Very fucking funny. I know you went to Reckloose, it doesn't mean you have to act like it. I'll kick'em out and then I am looking for her. She couldn't have lost her cell phone. There's no way she'd be as fucked out of her mind as you were."

He rolled his eyes as he started to walk up the steps to Brittany's apartment building. The detective woke up in a panic this morning to find that neither Brittany nor Santana had returned. It wouldn't have been such a big deal, but after that message for Santana, he couldn't see why they had to act like they were teenagers tramping around the city. The chief would kill him if either of them went missing and Puck would never forgive himself if something happened to either of them.

"Whatever. I get it. Clear out your hook up from last night. Always cleaning up your fucking messes. I'm not a housecleaner you know? Right. I'm your friend- hey! That doesn't mean I have to drop everything for you all the time." A rueful smile graced his lips. "I know…I still do everytime." His smile grew as he joked back. "One day I am going to say no to you and then you'll be shit out of luck."

He put his key into the lock, but wasn't surprised when he realized it wasn't locked. "Is she at least hot? I mean last time I came over, I got a full view of something I didn't need to see."

"Yes! I mean is your hook up a girl!" Puck shook his head rolling his eyes. "How do you not know if you hooked up last night? You were that messed up?"

He pushed open the door to Brittany's apartment.

* * *

Santana's heart was pounding so hard and so fast, but it had nothing to do with the fact that she had no clue where she had ended up for the night. No, this all had to do with the object in her hand. She lifted it up to her face and held it in the light streaming from the window at the far side of the room. Why would she still have it in her hand?

Fuck. What happened?

Dark eyes ran along the cross stitches and the pattern of the weave of the heavier material in her hand. It shouldn't have ripped. She probably should have felt remorseful for ruining Brittany's hat, but that fucking bitch had to put it on her head. God, she had been furious last night.

So confused and oddly, she had felt something stir when Brittany admitted to claiming her. Why couldn't they just work together and just let it go? One time in her life, Santana had been the best at burying her emotions and it was the same blonde in high school as it was now that was making her once again come face to face with those messy and unstable passions. Again her eyes focused on the tiny frayed strings dangling from the area of separation. Her fingers curled around the fabric until it rolled into a tight ball clenched in her fist.

It had long since passed the time when Santana would have known if she was sleeping in the bed with someone else. Whoever she had gone home with last night had been gone for awhile now. Slowly, very slowly, she sat up in the bed with a hand held to her head. Her eyes remained staunchly shut as she tried to remain lucid. Everything was swimming and her temples pounded.

She needed water, her clothes, her bag, and to get the fuck out of there.

When she finally opened her eyes, Santana had to shake her head just to make sure she was seeing clearly. Where the fuck was she?

Santana unsteadily attempted to stand up from the bed, but she heard something like a door rattling not far away. Her first instinct was to duck out of sight, but her body wasn't moving at the same pace as her alarm. With one ungraceful move, Santana's foot snagged on a piece of miscellaneous clothing in a pile of discarded clothes that seemed to never end and she tumbled forward into the whole mess beneath her.

"Omphf!" The noise escaped her nostrils as she landed face first next to the bed. If she had been dizzy before, the Latina was absolutely baffled by her surroundings now. There was a sharp pain in her leg; she was pretty sure it was a heel digging into her thigh and a chain to a discarded necklace had wrapped around her wrist. A piece of paper under the bed caught her eyes. She felt like she was swimming in a sinkhole as she attempted to maneuver her body in the mess to grab onto the paper.

She opened it and read: Christiana xxx-xxx-xxx

Great!

Just fantastic!

Either that was the name of the woman she had come home with or whoever she had spent the night with did this sort of thing on a regular basis. With an exasperated sigh, she dropped the slip of paper back onto the floor.

"Stupid. Stupid Stupid, Lopez. Real great fucking night." The brunette smacked herself in the forehead with the same hand which held the piece of Brittany's material. The coarse fibers jolted her from spiraling back into memories of last night. She really needed to get the fuck out of here. Unbalanced, she attempted to once more grab onto the side of the bed to push herself up, but at that moment, the door to the apartment slammed open to the sound of a voice.

"Tell him I said hi okay?" The voice said from the front door. Caught in an incredibly compromising position and surrounded by more sink-clothing-holes, Santana had no way to escape. As the voice rounded the corner, she made a quick move to cover herself so no one would see her naked.

She was unsure what surprised her more – the fact that she was still wearing her clothes or Puck standing in the doorway with his jaw practically touching the floor.

"I'll call you later." Puck said into the phone clearly distracted by the sight of Santana buried in a mound of Brittany's clothes. The phone clicked dead before he could even hear if Brittany responded on the other end of the line. "Santana?"

Nothing made sense. If this wasn't Puck's apartment, why was he walking in here like he owned it?

"Where the fuck am I?"

"Swimming in clothes?" He tried the humorous deflection tactic.

The scowl on her face told him he had made the wrong move. "Where the fuck am I, Puckerman?"

He shrugged unsure how to escape the situation with all his body parts. Britt owed him. Like owed him. How could she have sent him in here without even a little warning? Unless she really did black out last night? Fuck! He knew what it was like to black out. Sometimes you luck out and something in your brain clicks and you make it somewhere safe. It didn't happen all the time, but it seemed like maybe it had happened last night with the two women. Still…did they really sleep in the same bed last night and not know?

At least he wouldn't have to go looking for Santana now.

"Maybe I can tell you after you've calmed down and had something to drink?" Puck took a confident step forward through the clutter. He had braved these unknown waters before and had developed a semi-decent way to walk through Brittany's apartment with only a 25% chance of serious injury.

"Fuck you. I don't want anything to drink." Santana waved at his hand attempting to get up herself, but failed miserably again. This time she took the proffered hand.

"I meant water." Puck gave her an easy smile as he pulled her into his body. He maneuvered her back onto Britt's bed so she could comfortably sit. Once he was sure Santana was settled, Puck walked into Brittany's kitchen to find a clean cup. It took longer than expected. Britt didn't maintain a very clean household or maintain anything really. When he walked back into the room, Santana had her face buried deep in her hands. The man frowned, but didn't say anything as he sat down next to her. Patiently, he waited for her to take the glass of water from his hand.

"Ugh. I feel like shit."

"Well, you smell like you should."

The Latina shot him a half-hearted attempt at a glare, but saw the water droplets condensing on the glass. Her hands reached out and she chugged it all in one go before she started to sputter and cough. Puck wordlessly took the glass back from her.

"Where am I?" Santana asked in a calmer voice this time. Her dark eyes didn't leave his.

The frown on Puck face deepened at the question. Of course she couldn't just drop it. This was Santana fucking Lopez who just needed to know the answer to every question, even if she wouldn't like it. His eyes flickered back and forth between hers as he sought for the best way to break it to her. But a sudden light dawned on her face and before he knew it, Santana's eyes were darting all over the apartment; from the floor to the mess to the curtains to the walls, back to the bed and then to a small piece of paper on the side of the bed before back to Puck. Oops. She had definitely figured it out. The man gave her a small apologetic shrug of the shoulders. But she had already forgotten about him as she stood up from the bed and spun around in the mess.

"Oh Britt…" Santana whispered under her breath before she sat back down. Last night still hadn't worked its way through her system yet.

"Yeah…" Puck said unsure if even he could put a positive spin on the apartment.

"Wait…" Santana paused and glanced back to the bed where she had woken up then back to Puck. Her eyes were wide as panic and conclusions were made. "Does that mean we…?"

She trailed off unable to even comprehend sleeping with Brittany and the implications. Her head began to swim again.

Puck threw his hands up in the air. "I have no idea. I don't even think Brittany knows you were the one in her bed last night." The look Santana shot him made him want to back track, instantly he offered. "She was a mess too from the sound of it and just asked me to come on over to make sure you didn't steal anything…of course that's because I don't think she realized it was you in the bed."

Santana rolled her eyes and let out a huff of annoyance and frustration. "Fuck. You've got to be kidding me."

"'fraid not." Puck leaned over into her shoulder and placed an arm around his long time friend. "At least I don't think you guys hooked up. That's a plus right?"

"Ugggg!" Santana moaned into his shoulder as she buried her face. "Fuuuuuuuuuck."

"Yeah I should just keep my comments to myself. Shouldn't I?"

"Yes! Shut the fuck up, Puckerman! You are making everything worse!" Santana unconsciously tightened her grip around the material in her hand.

"So unless I am reading your sighs, moans, and fucks wrong, you actually wanted to do something with Pierce?"

"Uggggg shut up, Puck!" Santana gripped onto his shirt with her other hand as she stroked the stupid piece of hat in the other. "You are the worst person to wake up with!"

"Normally I wouldn't be offended by that, but I mean, we did have that whole thing going on at McKinley, so I'm a little insulted. I wasn't that bad." Puck tried to get her to smile. "I mean whatever you did last night couldn't have been as bad as you're making it."

"I woke up in my ex-girlfriend's bed. I don't remember half the night and she clearly thinks she banged some random chick." Santana muttered into his shirt with her eyes still completely shut. "Not only that, I'm pretty sure we got into a fight, like some huge fight, over something so stupid."

"Could be worse?"

Nope.

But now it was. Puck gulped as Santana finally turned her eyes up to his as if to ask him if he really wanted to be the clichéd sage of mother fucking wisdom right now. Maybe it was the incredibly scary glint in her eyes or the way her brows dipped, but Puck was pretty sure that being the mother fucking sage of wisdom at this exact moment would probably get him shanked. Bad. Very bad. He pulled at the collar of his button down for a second to delay the inevitable. "I mean, it's not like you did anything that you super regret and you could have woken up in someone else's bed. I don't know what you want me to say, Santana. It sounds like you and Britt are all sorts of complicated right now and I want to live for another few days so I don't want to get in the middle of whatever crazy woman drama you got."

"Ugh!" Santana groaned again unsure how to even begin to explain the way Brittany made her feel. Instead of trying, she once again sank back into Puck's shoulder.

"You're being real talkative this morning. What's one of those fancy lawyer terms? Articulate? You're being real articulate this morning, Tan." The arm wrapped around her body jolted a little to try and get her to look at him again. "Just talk to me. What's up?"

There were a thousand things up – a thousand things down and everything seemed to be intersecting in the middle. It seemed impossible, but it didn't matter how many emotions were bouncing around inside her, Santana couldn't reach out to even have a solid hold on one. Her thumb brushed over the tiny strands of the ripped fabric again and again. Maybe it would give her the words she was searching for.

"She said she wanted to have a say in my life again. She wanted to be in again and…" Hot, unwanted tears welled up at the corners of her eyes. "How does she get to do this to me? How am I supposed to function if every moment I am with her all I keep thinking is that I made the biggest mistake of my life?"

Stunned, Puck could only hold her as Santana struggled. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. It felt like a lifetime ago when Santana had just upped and left. Of course, he knew why she had done it, but it didn't make it hurt any less. Sometimes one forgot the reasons others do things, but he had seen them splintering apart four years ago. If Santana would have stayed, Puck couldn't even begin to think of what would have happened. The worse thing a person can do is regret and regret and ask "what if" over and over again. Luckily for the detective, he had learned that lesson back in high school when he had knocked up his best friend's girlfriend. Sometimes he slipped, but he couldn't look back and think what his life might have been.

"Tan…" He said softly, stroking the back of her dress. "You can't think like that…You left for a reason back then. Things were so fucked up and I know it doesn't seem like it, but it did do some good. You have a life and a job out in California and Britt's been doing her thing here. What happened last night?"

"I don't know!" Santana looked up to the ceiling with a puff of hot air through her nostrils.

"Did you guys do something at the club?"

"No. Yes. I don't know. We were drinking and flirting and everything felt so good, Noah. Like…" She trailed off not waiting to looking into his eyes.

"Like it did before?"

Silence settled in the air at Puck's question.

"Yes…" She whispered to the wall.

He waited.

"Was it really that bad?"

A short snort.

"No, no it wasn't."

"So what are you so scared of?" His voice matched the timbre of Santana's own.

Her dark eyes shut again to block the brilliant light streaming from the window and hitting the blank white walls of Brittany's apartment. The material in her hand felt so course and so comfortable at the same time. What frightened her? For a brief moment, the Latina let down the walls she had carefully and meticulously constructed for the past four years. Her response came from beyond those barriers.

"Everything."

"Tan…" Like Brittany, Puck had wanted to believe that Santana had escaped the horror of Rachel's death. No one escapes a trauma unscathed. Maybe Santana had the worst of their fates. At least Brittany and Puck had each other even if they fought at times or Brittany tried to dick over his department. They would eventually forgive each other. They drank together, shared friends, and occasionally would get together with some of the Lima kids when they were in town. Santana had left her life completely. He couldn't imagine the pain she went through all alone. Even though they didn't talk about it directly, Puck had made his own conclusions as to the reasons Santana had left. Brittany was spiraling out of control, obsessed with the Midnight Strangler case. No one could get through to her, not even Santana. But he felt as if she needed to say the reasons out loud. "Why'd you leave then?"

"Honestly?" Another derisive snort. "I was furious and angry and lost. Most of all, I was desperate. I was losing her. I knew it. We knew it. Nothing was okay. I just needed her to stop for a minute. When she didn't show up to my performance and stopped coming home, I didn't know what else I could do. When I left, I really thought she would come after me. I thought if she came after me and left New York for even that little bit of time that we could somehow pick up the pieces. But instead they just stayed broken."

"So why not try again?"

Santana shook her head softly and rolled her eyes. He didn't get it. She bit her bottom lip. "It's not that easy."

"Nothing is, Tan, but we still got to try…"

"When I let her in and let my walls down back at fucking McKinley, I let her have it all. We were gonna have it all."

"You did." Puck whispered. Images of their apartment and the dance studio and even that ridiculous P.I. office Britt worked out of in the back of the studio flooded his mind.

"That was it, Puck. That's all I had. I gave it all to her. All of me and when she didn't show up, it was all gone. There's nothing left."

Now Puck knew exactly what to say because he didn't believe her – not even for a moment. And he knew that Santana didn't believe herself either. It didn't make any sense.

"If you don't have anything left, why are you frightened? I think you're underestimating yourself. Maybe you just forgot how much you're worth." He remembered watching Santana their senior year. The way she blossomed from a frightened, confused, and spiteful girl to a young woman who finally grasped how beautiful, intelligent, and wonderful she was. At that moment, Puck knew back then that she had always been out of his league. After that, Santana became both an independent woman and one so inseparably attached to the one person who had always known her worth – Britt. "Take it slow, Tan. No one's asking you to move back here or open yourself up to getting hurt again. I'm not, but I don't think you should shut us out either – you shouldn't shut her out."

Santana choked back a few more tears from the corners of her eyes at Puck's words. She was grateful that she had chosen to face the wall. It was hard enough without him seeing just how effective his words had had been. When Puck realized that Santana wasn't going to respond, he stood up from the bed and began to work his way around the apartment. After Santana knew Puck couldn't hear her, she whispered softly to herself because it needed to be said out loud. "It's impossible to keep her shut out."

Even now with a murderer on the loose and the world was falling apart, Santana couldn't help but feel like a complete mess around that blonde.

Puck walked back to the doorway. "You need a ride to your hotel? We can get your stuff and head to the station."

"Yea. I need a shower too."

"I kinda like the smell of fruity drinks on you. Better than those tequila nights we used to do."

"Ugh. Don't remind me." Santana carefully stood from the bed now that she was aware of the complete disarray beneath her.

"Never did tell me what went down that one night when you were carrying Q down the hall." Puck said with a smirk.

Chocolate eyes sparkled at the memory of that night in particular. "A lady never tells, Puck. Nice try though."

"Funny since Britt pretty much said the same thing."

"Too chicken to ask Quinn yourself?" Santana teased as she walked across the room. She felt like an imposter as she said the name of someone who used to be her best friend. It had been years since they had last talked and it felt blasphemous to utter her name now. She had abandoned a lot of people when she fled the east, not just Brittany.

"I'll find out eventually." He offered her an arm. Santana hesitated, but declined. She needed to recover some dignity.

"I'm good. I'll be fine." Santana did pause to look back at the mess of Brittany's living space. "Puck?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell her it was me sleeping in her bed this morning."

"Why?"

"Just don't. We don't need to make anything messier than it already is…" Her eyes roved over the clutter and disaster that was Britt's life. A sharp pain tugged at her chest. She felt exactly the way this room look – a complete wreck.

"I don't think it can get much messier." The detective said with a flippant smirk, trying to lighten the mood as his eyes also went around the room. But he knew the double meaning of her words and he would respect her wishes. "Sure, Tan. I'll just say no one was here when I came in."

The shit he did for these girls.

Puck made for the door. Santana lingered. Her fingers ran over the piece of Britt's hat in her hand. She walked to the trashcan just outside of the kitchen. She had to stop playing these games with Brittany. They had a lot of work to do and the previous night had been incredibly foolish and stupid.

About to release the black material, something caught her eyes. The rest of Britt's hat had already been thrown into the white plastic bag. The realization that Brittany had stood here in this exact position sometime this morning hit her hard. All the weight and tension, Santana had willed herself to release only a few moments ago returned tenfold.

"What am I doing?" Santana's hand hovered above the trashcan.

"Come on, Pez. Haven't got all day." Puck called out just as Santana rounded the corner. "Took you long enough."

"Shut it, Puckerman."

* * *

It was uncanny how she felt so unsafe at the crime scene where she had been led to the body of the latest Stranger victim, but as she entered the hotel, she felt uncomfortably calm. Santana looked to Puckerman. He had pulled out his badge and was pointing towards the elevator while talking to the hotel management.

"No one's been in there since the police and I already talked to Macklin. They didn't find anything suspicious in the room, but he still wants you out. Ready?"

"Whatever. Let's get this over with."

The door to her room popped open easily. Not much had changed. In fact, it seemed as if no one had been there at all. At least she knew the forensics team was sharp. Puck lingered in the doorway. "Come on, Puck. I want a shower first and to change. I'm sure the television works so wait for me?"

"Sure, Pez. I got this. Besides I'm on the department's dollar right now." Puck plopped onto the mattress as Santana dragged her suitcase towards the bathroom.

The way he said those words made Santana pause before shutting the door. "Are you babysitting me too?"

The man coughed, clearing his throat as he tried to think of an answer that wouldn't make Santana angry. His eyes glanced back to the television. "Not necessarily."

"You're supposed to be watching her. Aren't you?"

It was almost impossible to lie to Santana Lopez.

"Yes." He rubbed at the top of his head.

Santana was less than amused. "Where is she?"

"Tan."

"Forget it." She flipped her hand up in the air. "Keep her secrets. Whatever. Just know that I hold you responsible for her. So if you are letting her get away with something reckless or dangerous while watching me..."

"I promise, Santana. It's nothing like that. Just some personal shit she needs to deal with."

But Santana had already closed the door to the bathroom. He let out a soft sigh at the sound of the door cutting off his words. The two of them would be the death of him.

* * *

The scalding water felt cathartic.

Santana needed it after last night and that morning. As the beads of water trickled down her naked body, her mind wandered. Her hands ran down her wet nape lingering as she tilted her head back for a moment. She needed to get her shit together. Toying with emotions was a difficult business. She needed to clear her head and start thinking about the case.

She stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel from the rack. Fluffing the material against her body, Santana looked at herself in the mirror. The dark hair around her face clung wet and dripped. Even she could see the hardness in her eyes. Quickly, the Latina brushed through her hair and pulled out the wall dryer to blow it. After a long night drinking and dancing, it was always a relief to cleanse the body.

She had hung up her nicer clothes in the closet and they were being dry-cleaned by the hotel staff. No matter how clean Puck claimed the woman's clothes from his apartment were, Santana smirked to herself as she pulled out her favorite pencil skirt. It felt good to be in her own clothes again. The material clung to her body in all the right places. She chose a deep cut blue shirt again and remembered she still had some earrings in her bag to match. The little things kept people sane. The little things and the small almost inane rituals were the moments a person could feel most as ease.

She unzipped the bag of her suitcase.

A white piece of paper casually rested on top of her clothes. Her heart stopped.

A dead ball of anxiety welled within her and dropped the bottom of her stomach. Trembling her fingers reached for the note and flipped it up. She swallowed but somehow her saliva stuck in her throat.

_Did you like my present?_

Santana held a hand to her mouth as she clenched her eyes shut. Did she enjoy the present? She instantly knew.

The body. Christ! The young girl she had been blindly sent to find by that message from the courtesy phone call.

Why the fuck was this happening to her?

"P-p-p-p-" She tried to say. But words were stuck in her throat. She didn't recognize the handwriting. Her eyes darted back and forth across the words written on the stark white paper. Fuck.

Fuck. How? The police had been here. They were supposed to have checked the room and made sure she was safe.

"Pu-Puck! Puck!" She finally screamed from the bathroom. From outside, she heard him stumble from the bed. His booted footsteps hit the floor and his shoulder collided with the bathroom door.

"Santana! Santana!? Are you okay!? Say something!" Puck turned the knob frantically. The woman shot up from the floor. Her breathing was short. Her heart pounded.

"Santana?" Puck stood in the doorway with his gun outdrawn. His trained eyes glanced around the room to make sure it was secure. But he didn't see anything amiss except for a clearly distraught Santana holding a piece of paper. "Tan, you okay?"

"I-" Santana didn't know how to say it. Instead, she held the note out for Puck to read.

His eyes glanced over the words about a thousand times. They were typed neatly in the center of an off-white piece of type paper.

"The fuck is this, Tana?" Puck flipped the paper over and over again in his hands trying to reason and rationalize.

Santana shook her head.

"Where'd you find this?"

The brunette only pointed to the suitcase opened on the floor.

Puck dropped to his knees and held his hands out to rummage through the clothes, but he stopped himself. "We're gonna take this to forensics. Alright, Tan? It's gonna be fine. Okay?"

Santana only nodded. He didn't like the look in her eyes.

"I'm gonna kill this fucker when we find him." Her voice was scary.

"You and me both."

The evidence was already compromised, but Puck still carefully folded the piece of paper and slipped it into a bag inside his jacket. The suitcase he zipped up with gloves on and lifted it from the floor. "Make sure you have everything else."

Santana nodded.

_Did you like my present?_

_Did you like my present?_

_Did you like my present?_

The words echoed over and over again. A hooded figure in the dark watching her and getting some sort of sadistic pleasure from her fear? It made her sick. It made her violent. She picked up a pair of socks on the floor and her reading glasses from the side table. Puck hung out at the door with a frown on his face. Santana felt the hairs on her back itching. For some reason her eyes lingered on the table where she had placed her briefcase and planner. The brunette packed up her laptop and started to pack away her paperwork from the firm. She would have to call Terry again. She was about to stuff all the paperwork into her briefcase to be done, but she paused.

The small slip of paper she had placed there her first real night in the hotel caught her eye. Her heart skipped a beat. It couldn't be.

She had dismissed it as a receipt or a hotel bill. She wanted to pretend her fingers weren't trembling as she flipped the lone piece of paper over.

_Welcome Back_

It bore the same type and print on the same type of paper. She bit her bottom lip and held the note back towards Puck. The man gingerly took the paper with a baggy already outstretched in his hand.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Puck shook his head. His frown now deepened to a legitimate scowl. "We're gonna get this fucker."

"That's three, Noah. That's three fucking times this guy has sent me a message. What the fuck does this mean? Why? What does this guy want from me? He didn't do it to Felicia!"

"I don't know, Tan. But I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

_Welcome Back_

_Welcome Back_

The killer had known where she was and when she had returned. An unrestrained shiver ran down her spine.

* * *

"Welcome back!" A voice boomed from behind the cage at the precinct.

Santana flinched at the words.

Puck flashed the man behind the desk a faux smile hoping to keep Santana from flipping out or breaking down. How much more could the woman take?

He dared to glance towards the side and caught sight of the steel hardened glean in those dark eyes. She was strong. Santana had always been strong.

"Miss." The man gave her an amicable nod.

"I need to get this suitcase to the lab." Signing and filling out the right paperwork, Puck finally turned back to Santana. They moved through the precinct together, each with their own thoughts. She wouldn't allow this monster to toy with her any longer. Whatever this was about, she would see it to the end.

* * *

"Unacceptable! Absolutely unacceptable!" Macklin bellowed from his office. Santana calmly sat in the meeting room two doors away with the officers assigned to the case and the detectives Macklin had specifically ordered to be working the Strangler case. In a way, Santana felt bad for her friend. It situation obviously wasn't his fault, but she knew Andy needed someone to yell at.

The berating continued.

"I don't care if the lady doesn't have toiletries or a fancy powder kit for her fucking lady nose! You were to make sure that room was clean even after the forensics team! So I don't see how the fucking hell this kind of breach could happen!"

Santana resolutely looked at the blank screen in front of the meeting room where they would project images. It was hard to pretend that everyone in the room wasn't looking at her. They were. They had all heard that she was now with certainty the newest target. Strange too that Macklin would allow her to continue to be part of the briefings and meetings regarding sensitive information about the case. Judgment weighed heavy in the room.

"I don't want to hear another word of this." Santana let out a sigh of relief that Macklin sounded ready to give up the barrage of guilt. "Wait! You stay the fuck in your seat, Puckerman! That's not even the real reason I'm angry."

Santana needed to take her mind off Puck's treatment.

_Terr: You okay?_

She had gotten the text message last night, but hadn't time or the facilities to respond properly.

_Santana: Prob not, but working through it_

_Terr: Can I do anything? I didn't mean to push you into a bad situation_

The Latina rolled her eyes and hoped her boss could see it from the West Coast.

_Santana: Sure you did. You just thought you were doing me a favor_

_Terr: Technically I thought I was doing my ADA friend a favor_

_Terr: You don't have to stay there. You're welcome back anytime and we can forget the whole thing_

The words stuck out like they were written in red on the screen.

Welcome Back.

"Where the fuck is Pierce? She's your fucking charge and she's not even here! Instead you were helping Lopez get more notes from a fucking lunatic! Do you even know where the fucking P.I. is?"

The room grew even quieter; not that Santana thought it was possible. Her attention snapped back to the present and away from her phone. Terry would have to wait. She couldn't leave. Not like this.

This was the first time since Macklin had started tearing into Puck that no voices could be heard from outside the chief's office. Santana silently prayed it meant the end to their private meeting so they could get down the worst part of the day – discussing her. In a way, she had almost wanted Macklin to kick her off the case because of the dangers, but he had told her to get her ass to the meeting room.

The legal pad on the desk in front of her was still blank. She had wanted to write a few notes about what she had learned last night from Sharon, but it was hard to focus on anything with that racket.

Where was Brittany?

The brunette resisted turning around to look for the blonde head.

The door to the meeting room burst open. Macklin strode through the room and took position at the front with an exasperated huff. His cheeks were ruddy from all the yelling and his chest was moving at an unusual rate. Off-handedly, Santana wondered how long the man could continue like this especially with a case like this? He wasn't that old, but the years in the force took their toll and then some. Puck shuffled in behind him. The shaved head was already being rubbed into baldness and he had barely made detective. Had they not been here, Santana would have offered him a friendly word of advice about rubbing his scalp like that. He settled in next to her.

"Sorry bout that." Santana offered very quietly out the side of her mouth.

"My fault. I should have been more careful. I'm sorry I put you into that room without clearing it first."

"No, it's not you, Puck. It's whoever this piece of shit; he's the one who should apologize."

Puck only nodded to assuage her, but it didn't stop the horrible guilt he felt. Never again would he allow one of his friends to be hurt. Never would he allow something to happen like what happened to Rachel.

"You got anything else you want to talk about?" Macklin snapped from the front of the room with a glare in Puckerman's direction. When the younger man shook his head no, Macklin finally turned back to the rest of his room.

"Everything's changed." The man said solemnly. "There's a change in the M.O. from the last time the killer worked. Never before did the killer have previous contact with a victim. I hope it is something we can take advantage of since the killer has been very liberal with his contact with the department's consultant, Ms. Lopez. Within the past week, Ms. Lopez has received three different messages – two notes and a phone message – they must be from someone privileged to the case in ways only this department and the actual perpetrator of the murders would know."

All eyes looked towards Santana. For all that she had been through, she was still incredibly proud. The brunette held her head high and her eyes straight as if she wasn't the sole object of curiosity throughout the room.

"As important as Ms. Lopez's health is, we must also see this as an opportunity. Therefore, we are no longer moving her to a safe house."

This garnered both Santana's and Puck's attention. Their eyes snapped up to Macklin. Neither of them had discussed this with the chief.

"She'll be moved to another hotel with round the clock undercover security." Macklin spoke directly to the woman sitting in the front row. His eyes dared her to try and object in the middle of his briefing. "This may be our only opportunity to get this guy, so I don't want any fuck ups. Finally-"

Macklin stopped talking and stared at the back of the room with an unreadable expression which quickly turned to one of disgust and confusion. "What the fuck is on your head, Pierce?"

Again the entire room turned around, Santana included. They all wanted to see the subject of Macklin rant from only a few minutes ago.

Sarcastic and flippant as ever, Brittany pulled the wool down further over her head. "It's called a hat, sir."

"The hell that's a hat! It's looks like someone sheered a sheep and stuck whatever they cut off onto your head."

Now the blonde mumbled to herself and stuffed it further down her forehead. Santana suppressed the urge to giggle at the vision of the P.I. with a beanie on her head. Not that she could fault Macklin; it did look ridiculous – yellow and badly knitted. Maybe she had even made it herself.

"Off!" Macklin yelled and flipped his hand in the air.

"What?" Brittany shot his back a look that would melt any other man.

"Off! Take it off! I can't talk up here and look at that thing on your head." Slowly she lifted her hand up to her head and removed the hat. Her blonde locks frizzed up from the static, but she still managed to look incredible even with hat head. Macklin shook his head. Sneaky bitch must have snuck in when he was debriefing. His eyes slid to Puckerman in the front room next to Lopez. They didn't have to say aloud that Puckerman was lucky Brittany had decided to show up for debriefing this morning. Somehow she had saved his ass for once.

"Finally, Greene and his team to lead on the latest victim. Our case should be finished being reviewed by the FBI today." Macklin finished the sentence and glared, almost daring them to make a noise of compliant, but he was met with silence. Santana noticed the way Puckerman's eyes slid towards another detective. No matter how stone faced Puck appeared, Santana sensed that he didn't like this Greene guy. "Good. You're dismissed. Except for Lopez and Puckerman."

The rest of the department filtered out of the room until the only people left were Macklin, Santana, Puck, and Brittany.

Macklin raised his brows at the P.I. who deliberately didn't get up to leave. "Can I help you, Pierce?"

Despite the lack of head gear, Brittany still maintained her badass stare towards her superior. Santana resisted the urge to turn around and look at her. They hadn't spoken since last night and that had ended badly.

"That's my partner-" Santana felt a shiver run down her body at the confident and almost possessive way Brittany said the word. "-so anything you have to say to her, you can say to me."

The older man bristled at the demand to stay. His eyes softened as they glanced towards Santana who remained perfectly still and staring at a blank space at the wall. These two women would be the death of him. "Stay."

He pulled a chair out from one of the desks and collapsed with a sigh.

"Still pretty early in the morning to be that exhausted, Andy. Are you getting sleep?" Santana asked softly.

"Nice of you to ask, Lopez, but you know the answer. How are you holding up?"

"Fine."

"That's a loaded cop response if I ever heard one. You have no idea how many times I've sent my people to the shrink for saying 'fine."' He shook his head again and looked towards Puck. "I want you to head up the investigation to find out how this fucker got into the hotel again. I want surveillance tapes, guest logs, hotel employee records. Search for anyone with a past of stalking, strangulation, or violence."

Puck nodded.

"But before you do that, I want to get Lopez some training in self-defense."

"Andy, it's not necessary. This will not happen again."

"We said that last time and you still received a note. I'm putting you in harm's way. Just give me this small piece of mind that you'll go down to the range. Trust me-" Macklin's eyes slid to Brittany in the back of the room. "-sometimes just shooting can relieve some stress."

"If it makes you happy."

"It will. Puck will take you down there."

They got up to rise, but Santana remembered Brittany still hadn't left. As she turned, their eyes met. Brittany seemed as if she showered wherever she had been this morning. Santana couldn't help to think about the apartment she had woken up in. The bottles everywhere, covered only by the large amount of clothes the blonde had deposited without care all over. A light tincture of red rose to her cheeks as she realized they had slept with each other last night. Clothed and drunk, but they had laid next to each other under the clothes and the blankets.

How could Brittany not have known in the morning? Did she just leave?

And she didn't have a hat on.

They both thought the same thing. Santana again felt her cheeks warm as Brittany reached up to tip the invisible hat on her head which she had tossed this morning and Santana had ripped last night.

No words. Not yet, certainly not here.

Brittany practically ignored the questioning glance Puck threw her. She didn't need his backup for this. Changes needed to be made.

* * *

Bang!

Bang! Bang!

For all the noise the gun made, Puck frowned to see that nothing had actually hit the targets. He had no idea why he was down here with Santana, other than to make Macklin feel better. Puck had already asked if the Latina would be carrying a gun for protection from now on. That question had gotten him a smack on the arm and glare that still seared. Santana had always been a hard ass even in high school, but she had never been one to take it to that extreme.

Now knives? That was a different story. He remembered when she had pulled a knife out on an assailant during the early years of their time in New York. The guy even tried to press charges until she threatened to cut him again. He dropped them and left the police department as soon as he could.

"You're not even aiming, Tan." Puck said from behind her as he leaned against the plexi-glass divider.

"Fuck off, Puck! I am aiming." The brunette swung around. Her eyes glaring at him from behind the safety goggles. She had already flipped off the sound proof earmuffs. The gun flipped carelessly in her hands. Puck ducked out of alarm behind the barrier.

"The gun! Don't point it at me! Gun down!" Puck yelled. "Gun down!"

Santana fiercely rolled her eyes as she dropped the side arm. The gun scraped the surface of the table in front of her before she turned back to Puck who was peeking back at her. "I put the gun down. You can come out now."

"You're dangerous, Santana! Jeez! I don't know what the chief was thinking about this." Puck came out with his hands raised. "You know if you just breathe a little more and take your time, I think you might actually hit the target."

The woman's eyes grew darker. "Maybe I don't want to hit the target."

"I figured."

"How long do we have to do this?"

"I think until they are done processing your suitcase." Puck glanced to the clean sheet. Not one bullet even came close to the target. He threw her another clip. "Try another one."

Rolling her eyes even harder, Santana turned back around towards the target and reloaded the gun the way Puck had shown her. This wasn't helping. She readjusted her stance, the safety goggles, and the gun.

Fuck Puckerman.

Bang. Miss.

Fuck Macklin.

Bang. Miss.

Fuck the Strangler.

Bang. Miss.

Most of all fuck Brittany S. Pierce.

Her finger squeezed the trigger, but she never got the shot off. She jumped about ten in the air as she felt a presence step into from behind. It took all of her will power not to turn around and fire the goddamn weapon.

"Fucking hell, Puckerman. Weren't you the one yelling about safety?"

"You're squeezing too hard."

The voice didn't belong to Puck. The body firmly pressed into her backside. A hand moved from her lower back sending shivers up and down her body as it slowly crested her right shoulder. Santana didn't want to glance, but her eyes shifted just a fraction towards the long slender fingers brushing across her bicep and down her forearm. Unable to move, Santana tried to breathe, but it seemed all her bodily functions were working against her. Brittany took one more step. The blonde's long leg pushed right between her own.

Santana felt chills running up and down her body when Brittany's fingers wrapped around her own hand. The pit of her stomach clenched hard and she felt that strong tug from the inside that made her whole body seize up. The way Brittany fit her body so perfectly was so incredibly unnerving and at the same time so universally right. Nothing in Santana's life had ever replicated the way in which their bodies could flawlessly mold into each other.

"Relax."

Ha! Santana wanted to snort and roll her eyes. Like it was easy to relax with Brittany's body literally rubbing up against hers. She could feel the hard, cold metal button of Brittany's pants pushing up her blouse as the material caught on the sharp roundness. She could barely breathe and Brittany was telling her to relax. She felt Britt's other hand work up the back of her neck underneath the thick braid of her dark hair. The blonde pulled aside the protective noise cancelling head set covering her ear.

"You have to breathe, San." Britt's mouth closed the gap to her ear. The woman's lips right up against her earlobe. A sharp shiver run down her spine at the contact. How could Brittany have this effect on her? It wasn't fair. She wanted to be mad. She wanted be furious. She wanted to turn around and tell the woman off, but all she could do was hold the gun in her hand. Even that was difficult and Santana hated to admit, but she was sure if Britt wasn't holding her hand on the gun, it would have clattered to the table. Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her. Painfully, she took that breath. The P.I. felt Santana's lungs fill and smiled. Santana knew this because she could feel Britt's lips curl against her ear. Just the thought…

"Now take aim."

Santana breathed and exhaled slowly. She opened her eyes all the way. Her finger curled round the trigger.

Fuck Brittany S. Pierce.

Bang. Hit.

The sound of the bullet hitting the target was almost louder than the shot itself since it was a noise so unfamiliar to the lawyer. Relief spread throughout her body followed quickly by anger. The brunette dropped the gun to the table and whipped around. Brittany smirked as she leaned back from Santana's body just enough to break most contact. Somehow Britt's left foot stayed firmly planted between Santana's feet. Even without her hat, Britt exuded confidence and arrogance standing with her hip cocked into Santana's body. The blonde winked at Santana with a smirk. "Nice shot."

Santana had no words.

A soft noise sounded behind Brittany's blonde head and Santana was forced to look past her. Puck stood there looking both uncomfortable at their confrontation and curious.

"Puck could you-" Santana began to ask.

But the detective cut her off. His hands fumbled around the back of his pants reaching for something. "-sure! Here's, my handcuffs."

Both women turned around and glared at him. "What?"

"That was an inside thought about one of my favorite porns…" Puck trailed off at the death look sent his way. The man ran a hand over his buzzed cut and licked his upper lip nervously. "I'm just gonna go…over there."

Puck pointed to the other side of the range close to the doorway leading upstairs as he walked away. Both sets of eyes waited until he was a safe distance away. Finally they dared to look back at each other. Santana tried so hard to desperately keep that feeling of anger she had only moments ago and the previous night. But as she gazed into those bright blue eyes, Santana didn't know where to begin. As much as she didn't remember Reckloose, Santana did recall the way she had ripped into the blonde after she had physically ripped the hat. "Nice shot? That's all you have to say?"

Those dark eyes dared Brittany to say the wrong thing.

The look wasn't lost on the P.I. For all her bravado and cockiness, Brittany felt warmth light up her cheeks. With uncharacteristic bashfulness, she imitated Puck's nervous behavior as she ran a hand through her golden hair. "About last night...I-" Britt began but paused unable to get the words out. Santana's eye brow rose still daring her to make the wrong move. "-I didn't mean for any of that to happen like that…"

"Not what you said last night." Santana said not biting. The Latina took a step back so their legs disconnected. The back of her ass hit the counter holding the gun and ammo clips. Her left hand maneuvered backwards towards the edge of the counter; it felt good to hold something steady.

"San-"

"Don't." Her hand held up in the air.

Bristled at the blow off, Brittany decided that she would go on the offensive as well. "Ms. Lopez, is that better?"

"Fuck you, Britt. I'm not here to listen to your one-liners or your little quips. We can talk about the case later. I'm here to learn how to protect myself from an asshole no one knows anything about with a weapon I will never use. So step off." Santana blew. Turning, she grabbed the fire arm from the desk and took aim hoping that Brittany would leave. Glaring down the sights of the gun, Santana took aim gripping the handle unusually hard. The gun cracked off once more. She missed again. Had she not been trying to maintain a certain aloofness, Santana would have yelled at the gun, but instead she continued to shoot until she emptied the clip. Not one bullet hit the mark. In frustration, she slammed the piece down. She could feel Brittany hadn't moved.

The braid Santana had put her hair into whipped around her face as she quickly spun to face Brittany again. "What, Brittany? You had your fun last night. You made your point."

"But that's the problem. That wasn't my point." Brittany stepped forward with her hands earnestly outstretched.

"So you didn't know what you were doing when you put the hat on my head? You didn't know that everyone in that bar knew I was marked as your little fuck buddy for the night? Is that _really_ what you're telling me?" Santana prompted, the anger in her voice rising. Brittany's bright blue eyes dimmed as they slanted down and to the left. That was all the answer Santana needed. "That's what I thought."

"Santana. Wait." Brittany reached out and grasped onto her arm. "I did know what I was doing, but I never thought of you as my-'fuck buddy'-" She used Santana's own word with another shameful blush gracing her cheeks. "I would never think of you like that."

The last part Britt practically whispered. Her bright eyes finally rose from staring at the floor to meet Santana's own. Santana didn't want to believe Britt. It would be a thousand times easier to not believe a word her "partner" said. They would be able to work without the other complications and the messy feelings, but when their eyes met, Santana's heart skipped.

There it was again.

Brittany.

The sincerity and honesty in those cerulean eyes were the same eyes Santana fell in love with across the locker room. Santana wanted so bad to hate Brittany for last night, but Santana knew every word was the truth. She shut her eyes hard. It wasn't fair that Brittany could make her feel so insecure and yet so assured at the same time. Her heart fluttered as those long lashes bounced up and down in her direction.

A noise echoed throughout the range as a man came running down the stairs at a fast pace. Curious, Brittany turned to see a patrol officer bounding a few steps at a time before halting in front of Puckerman to exchange some hurried words.

Something cold pressed against the back of her head.

The blonde froze. An icy chill spread from the center of her chest throughout her body. Frozen to the spot, Brittany turned around slowly. The barrel of a gun pressed softly against the back of her head beyond her hair and now it lifted in the air aimed between her eyes. Her heart hammering at a thousand times its normal rate, Brittany's eyes slid along the sleek barrel of the weapon towards its wielder. Those dark eyes were staring at her with such intensity it felt as if Santana had already pulled the trigger. "San?"

But nothing happened. Adrenaline pumped through Brittany's entire system at an alarming rate. Her fingers tingled with the feel of danger so near. Her eyes frantically searched for answers in those mysterious and scary eyes.

"This is how you make me feel." Santana's voice quaked with raw emotion. The gun shook in her hand until Santana's arm dropped defeated. "And I don't know if I'm the one holding the fucking gun pointed at you or if I am just waiting for you to finally shoot me."

The moment Santana stopped talking, Britt's body instinctively jumped into action. Without a second thought, she grabbed the gun from Santana's hand as if she was a traumatized victim of a crime. The weight of the gun felt off as Brittany grasped it from San's hand. Even though she did it as a reaction, Brittany knew before she checked, the gun wasn't loaded. Slowly, very slowly, the blonde's heart began to return to a normal pace. The P.I. scolded. "Don't ever fucking point a gun at someone like that. I don't care if it's not loaded."

Santana stood there and watched as Britt threw the empty gun back down on the counter behind her. The brunette let out a ragged sigh which hinted at no apologies even though a thousand other emotions swirled in her eyes. For a moment, Brittany didn't say anything. Her heart was still beating furiously.

The things Santana made her feel without a weapon were already overwhelming, but to have such a physical display of all the torrents happening beneath the surface was just terrifying.

Shaking, Santana remembered Puck's words about letting Brittany in. "Just-um-" Brown eyes slid to the gun that she had just pointed at Brittany. Chagrined for allowing Brittany to have such a great effect on her and doing something so stupid, Santana blushed. That had been over the top dramatic. She looked back to the blue eyes and offered her a half-smile out of embarrassment. "-just give me some time. I don't think we were ready for last night. I don't know if I'll ever be ready for that- for you. I didn't know what to expect when I came back here. I had no idea I still had so many feelings tied up with you. So I think we just need some space, okay?"

Stunned, Brittany nodded slowly trying to comprehend all the emotions, words, and confessions Santana was admitting. No matter how opened they had been together, her ex-lover had always been a rather reserved person with her most intimate emotions. Already the blonde had forgotten about the gun, all she could think about was Santana admitting to having feelings "tied up" with her. Now, her heart was pounding for another reason. Britt wanted to say something equally revealing, but they were interrupted.

Puck walked around the side of Santana's shooting booth with a grim expression. To alert them, he coughed a little into his hand. The two girls turned to face him at the same time. Puck didn't share Britt's sharp clairvoyance when it came to emotions, but he did feel the thick air swirling around the two.

Jesus, these two needed to fuck each other already. But he realized now was _not _the time to share more intimate thoughts. Besides, they had greater problems.

"That was my buddy Rick who ran down here a minute ago." Puck nodded his head towards the door where the patrol man had just come from. "The FBI just arrived."

* * *

**Thank you everyone for the continued support and fantastic reviews. Seriously, you guys are the best. Love you all! **

**As I am in the middle of Sandy, my safe wishes and blessings go out to everyone here on the east coast and anyone else effected. It's pretty nasty right now and I wish everyone safety and the swift return of power!**

**Have a lovely week!**


	14. Chapter 14

**I would totally love for Sue to be part of the FBI, but since I went canon, I don't think I can make it happen, but now I am thinking of a way to get her back into the story. Sue is a favorite of mine to write for. :D **

**As for the hat, I know! Ahhhhh! Ladykiller is forced to wear the beanie, but its Brittany S. Pierce so if anyone can rock that hat, it's her. Never fear. **

**Continuing…**

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 14**

"What do you think they're talking about in there?" The new girl Puck claimed earlier in the week leaned casually against the side of the desk. She ran a hand through her layered chestnut hair and pressed closer to the blonde only a foot away. "How long do you think they're going to be in there? I heard the moment the FBI arrived, the chief just brought them straight into his office and they've been talking ever since."

Britt took a long drag of her cigarette and tapped it against the side of Puck's desk. The discarded ash drifted aimlessly through the air and collected on the carpet. She may have been the cause of a small burnt mark on the wood finish as well, but Puck didn't need to know that.

Some time in between the shooting range and their walk upstairs to the department, Brittany had once again placed the yellow beanie on her head. It covered most of her head except for the places where the knitting had been stretched up and one could glimpse her blonde hair. Even though the beanie looked so out of place compared to the P.I.'s dark slacks, white button-up, and tie, Brittany still managed to appear both nonchalant and intimidating at the same time.

New Girl had a name.

Not that Brittany could remember it at the moment.

The tall P.I.'s eyes narrowed at the blinds that had been shut before she had come back to the department and the closed door concealing the FBI and Mack. A small puff of smoke leaked from the corner of her mouth. Smirking, Britt's body subtly moved in that way which invited New Girl to come closer. Communication was only partially verbal and Brittany had always been more comfortable in the physical form any way. The blonde's baby blues lit up as New Girl took the invitation and inched closer. "Dunno. Did you see what the FBI looked like and how many there were?"

"No…" The girl reached out and took a hold of Brittany's cigarette. She flashed the blonde a very readable expression under those lidded lashes. Again, the blonde smirked. Holding Britt's eyes captive, the girl took an equally long drag before she delicately held the cigarette back out for Brittany to take. Unable to help herself, Britt bit her bottom lip as she received the used smoke. "No one even knew who they were until after they walked into the chief's office. The moment the door shut, Ricky came out from behind the desk and told everyone. He was the one who had to check their IDs and clearance. So it's legit."

The girl had heard all sorts of things about the P.I. since the Strangler case started. She had only worked here for a few weeks and even before the blonde had first stepped into the precinct, she had heard some of the guys and occasionally one or two of the girls talk about the blue-eyed P.I. From the first time Brittany had winked at her, New Girl had wanted to at least know the reasons why half the department had gotten tangled up with her. This close to Brittany and sharing a smoke, she totally understood why.

"Hmm…" Brittany breathed out another puff of smoke, watching Mack's office like it would open at any moment.

"The hell are you doing, Britt?" Puck's voice sounded from a few feet behind her. Brittany didn't even turn around. She continued to smoke her cigarette with that cocky smile.

The detective sprinted to his desk and grabbed the cigarette out of her hand. He rubbed it out on the side of his trashcan and threw it in with exasperation. "Come on, Brittany! You know this is a government building! This isn't the 1960s. You can't just light up anywhere you want! There are sanctions and laws and all sorts of reasons why you can't just smoke in here! There's a smoking area right outside if you need it that bad."

Whether Brittany cared about the "laws" or the "sanctions" regarding smoking was debatable, but she did turn towards him. Her right hand pulled at the yellow knitted hat on her head as if it were made of the finest material and custom fitted for her head. The knitting stretched, but did give a little to cover another half inch of her forehead. "And I care why?"

New Girl giggled at Brittany's glib question.

Puck hadn't noticed her next to the blonde. The man blushed as he realized she was staring at him with those big doe eyes. The detective ran a hand over his buzz cut. "I-um- hey, Cassandra, I didn't see you there."

Not wanting to completely dismantle his manly charm, Brittany resisted, with great difficulty, the urge to roll her eyes at Puck's terrible game.

"Did they come out yet?" Low and sultry, Santana's voice threaded between the three gathered around Puck's desk. The clicking of her heels slowed until she too joined the party gathering. After the shooting range, she had excused herself to take another call from her boss about some contract or deal out in California.

"No, not yet." New Girl instantly piped up until she met with one threatening and dark look from the lawyer. Without saying a word, Santana's brow raised in a challenge towards the younger woman. Only Puck witnessed the exchange and he felt bad for Cassandra. He really did. And no matter how badly he had wanted to hit on her, it was almost a relief when she walked away. Better for her health. Santana did just learn-ish how to shoot a gun. Brittany's back remained turned towards the exchange although she too could sense the heat in the air. When she saw New Girl walking away, Brittany smirked and tugged her yellow beanie in the girl's direction.

"See ya 'round, New Girl." Brittany said. The woman turned with a hesitant smile, which dissipated as she caught sight of Santana right behind Brittany. Santana had mastered the stare down long ago and showed no qualms using it liberally. Quickly, she gathered some paperwork and began to sort it out four desks away.

"Is this normal for Macklin to be talking to them in private for so long?" Santana asked. She moved around Puckerman's desk to where New Girl had vacated. Three sets of eyes glanced towards the shut off office.

"No idea, Tan. We've never really had to call them in for something like this. Occasionally some cold cases will get looked at or an agent will come in for a background check on a former officer. Once we had a profiler come in, but nothing of this magnitude." Puck rubbed his head again.

"Stop rubbing your head like that." Santana reached behind Brittany's back to swat at Puck's hand. Puck flinched a little. "You're going to go bald and trust me; you need all the help you can get in the looks department if you want to keep up with Brittany stealing all the girls in the office."

Puck froze to the spot. He gave the two women the side-eye. Unsure if that was a jab at him or Brittany for shamelessly flirting with Cassandra. Puck shot her a half grin. His eyes darted to Brittany's face, but the blonde's expression hadn't changed. Yet something in the way Santana's own dark eyes casually grazed over Britt's face made Puck wonder if they were communicating on a whole different level. The detective rubbed his hand over his head again.

Smack!

"Ow!"

"I think she told you to stop." This time it was Brittany who slapped his arm down. The P.I.'s perfectly sculpted brow rose, but he could see amusement dancing in her eyes. And in his periphery, Santana's lush lips had tugged to the side matching the light heartedness of their play. "Besides, it's no fun competing if you aren't any competition and, Puck, you really do need all the help you can get."

Rolling his eyes, Puck groaned. At least he wasn't between the two of them or he'd probably have bruises. He leaned into Brittany and whispered. "Just to remind you, I called dibs on Cassandra about a week ago so back off."

"Ha!" Britt laughed. "Can't help it if New Girl dibs _me_, Puck. Better luck next time."

"Fucking ladykiller…" A distinct mumbling noise could be heard as Puck rubbed his head for the third time. This time he flinched before the blows even came. Both women lashed out at the same time. Even with his training, the detective doubted he would be able to deduce which one of them had punched him and which one had slapped his forearm. They were now glaring at him, hands raised menacingly ready to strike again. Slowly, Puck lowered his own hand from his head to his lap hoping to avoid more damage.

These women would be the death of him.

The three settled back into their original positions to watch the office and leaned against Puck's desk for a minute in silence. Each with their own thoughts and musing, but all related to the case in some manner and yet, each held lingering thoughts of their own personal relationships in the back of their minds.

Some time spent in the field would be a welcome reprieve from all their personal shit. Puck looked down at his watch. "I've got some leads to take care of at the hotel. I promise I will find out how that fucker got into your stuff, Tan."

"Puck…" Santana pushed off the desk so she could see around Brittany's body to face her old friend. "It wasn't your fault. You know that, right?"

He shook his head and almost reached up to run his hand over it again, but stopped. He looked like a dog right before it's scolded as he lowered his hand before it made contact. "I know. I just need to figure this shit out. For you. For the chief. He put me on this detail. And for Rachel. It could, you know, lead to something bigger. I'll be in touch. Definitely call me before you crash another cruiser. If you need one, the secretary still has the keys to that beat-up thing you can drive."

Right as he turned to leave, Puck paused. "I'd ask you about your lead from last night, but I assume you'll play it close to the vest." There was such sincerity and honesty in his words, but Santana saw more – worry, regret, and fear. "Just promise me you two will be smart and safe."

Before Santana could respond, Britt finally turned from staring at Macklin's office. She touched the front part of her yellow knitted beanie and spoke. "I'll keep her safe."

Agitated at the exchange, Santana's tongue clicked against the inside of her cheek. "I can take care of myself."

"I know." Brittany said without a moment's hesitation.

And Santana believed her.

"Hey!" Santana wanted to break the tension between them. Puck froze again and thought maybe his hands had been on his head again. They were still at his side. What could he had done now? "We didn't dismiss you yet."

"What?"

Brittany cocked her head for a second, but it didn't take long before the blonde figured out Santana's game. Smoothly, she inserted herself into the conversation. "Oh yeah…"

"Oh yeah? What?" Even more confused.

"You forgot to tell us about your date last night. I mean it sounded pretty kinky with the badge thing and you not wanting to give it up. We didn't even get her name." Santana continued to tease.

"It was good." Puck mumbled, about to rub his head again.

"So you admit it was a date then?" Brittany asked with a devious smirk.

For some reason Noah felt like he was in high school again. They may have been the sweetest girls with each other, but they could be nasty when they teamed up.

"Well-yeah-I-it was good. Why all the questions?"

"Just wondering. I mean, we can be curious. What's her name?" Santana pressed.

"Why? Why do you need her name?" Puck definitely felt like he was back in high school again. Refusing to answer Santana's question would mean endless harassment and ridicule. "Her name's Jocelyn…"

"Jocelyn…" Brittany purred. "I've known a few Jocelyns…"

"I'm sure you have, Britt." Santana broke the predatory gaze on Puck for a half second. A flash of jealousy reared its ugly head as the brunette remembered how easily Brittany had slipped from girl to girl at the club last night. The way her body had been pressed against woman after woman on the dance floor.

"Yes, well you don't know this one and never will." Puck's eyes were jumping from Britt to Santana.

"You ended it already?" Brittany smirked. "Good for you."

"What? No!" Shaking his head. "I kinda like her so I don't want you – either of you – to meet her."

"Ouch." Santana hissed playfully.

"Well when she gets bored with you, you can send her our way." Brittany winked and sent both women cackling.

High school. Just like high school. Puck muttered to himself as he stuffed his Columbus Blue Jackets cap down his head and walked away.

A few of the desk jockeys and even New Girl glanced their way.

"Ready to go?" Santana asked.

"Go where?" Britt's eyes glanced back to Macklin's office.

"To follow our lead, of course. We can deal with the feds later."

Brittany felt her phone silently buzz in her pocket. The PI glanced down to see a message from Macklin. Her blue eyes glanced up to the office, but it didn't appear as if the blinds had been disturbed or that it would be opening up anytime soon. She opened it:

_Hat off_

"Again? How the hell-?" The blonde glanced back up to the office. How did he know? Obstinately, Brittany shoved the yellow beanie further down her forehead in the direction of the chief's office. Who knew Macklin could even text? "Let's get out of here."

Fucking Macklin.

* * *

Puck entered the hotel lobby where Santana had been staying for what he wanted to believe was the last time. The poor desk boy who had first received the message for Santana and had led them up to the already tampered room fidgeted behind the desk. Obviously he recognized the detective. Puckerman flashed him a toothy smile. The young man flashed him a hesitant wave back. The hotel manager stepped between them with a great big grin on his face and opened arms.

"I see the police department is back. At least, you're not wearing a uniform like the rest of them here earlier. You know how these high rolling clientele get. They see the boys in blue and automatically think something's been stolen or someone's been killed so then they start booking reservations elsewhere and it's this whole hassle." The man said as he led Puckerman by the shoulders towards an employee only entrance. "So you see, I appreciate your dedication to protecting my patrons, I just wish all of you would come in coats and baseball hats. It makes you look like couriers."

"Sorry to inconvenience you." Puck said with a distasteful tone. "You do realize that there were threats from a high profile serial killer given to one of your patrons. Without us, we could be doing a lot more PR work than a few of our people taking prints and samples from one of your many rooms."

"Yes, yes, yes, I know what you're saying. Still it wouldn't hurt to get rid of the uniform while in a private business." Puck's words were lost of the hotel manager. The detective kept his mouth shut. "Now, I've already had a talk with our chain's lawyers and the boys in Chicago and they've assured me that I can allow you to go through our tapes and see if anything is amiss, which I can tell you already, there isn't because I have none of that tomfoolery in my hotel."

Tomfoolery? Who was this guy?

Puck opened his mouth to explain this wasn't "tomfoolery," but that a serious and deadly killer was setting his sights on one of his best friends. The hotel manager led him to the security office and opened the door. An older man, in his early fifties sat at the desk with radio to his mouth talking to some other guards scattered throughout the massive hotel.

"Just make sure those kids don't steal all the towels from that cart on level nine and watch out for the shady guy in the lobby. I don't like his look." The security officer turned in his swivel chair to face the detective and his boss. Upon seeing the manager, he lowered the radio with suspicion in his eyes. "What can I do for you two?"

"Now I told you this would be happening…" The manager switched to a threatening tone and tried to stare down the older man. The security guard opened his mouth, but chose to remain silent. "This is a detective from the police department. I need you to give him your full cooperation because I don't want them around here anymore."

With that the manager was gone.

"Charming." Puck said with a smirk. The older man rolled his eyes, but offered Puck a small smile.

"Yeah, that's a good word for the little fucker."

The radio cracked. "You still got us on and yeah that guy's a total douche bag."

That must have been the other guard. This time they both shared a laugh before the older man turned the knob down on his radio. He motioned to a chair to his right. Taking the gesture as a sign of good will, Noah took a seat next to him so they could face the monitors together.

"Detective Noah Puckerman." He offered his hand.

"Bill." The other man took the hand. "You're here about the room with that girl who's your friend?"

"Yeah…how'd you know we were friends?" Puck asked.

"Saw it on the camera when you two walked in. It's hard to miss a pretty girl like that. Those are the ones I have no trouble remembering." Bill's smile was anything but predatory. Just a man admiring a good looking woman – something Puck could relate to. "I've already got the video of her room from that night. I'll give it to you, but I have to tell you honestly, there's nothing there. A few people in the hallway, but no one went in except for the woman and you."

Puck took the usb from the guard's hand. "Thanks. We'll still go over it at the lab. We got some of the best guys in the field. You'd be surprised what we can find with something as simple as this."

"I expect nothing else."

"I have some routine questions." Puck pulled out his pad. "Anyone else have access to this room besides the guards and the manager?"

"Some of the cleaning staff so they can get in."

"Is there always someone in here manning the room?"

"No. We occasionally are needed elsewhere. There are only two of us on at any shift, but sometimes we're needed."

"Anytime yesterday?"

"A few times."

"Anyone stick out to you as particularly suspicious the past few days?"

"Except the man in the lobby right now? No. And he's nothing. Just a man who likes to leer without the courtesy of making it subtle."

"I see." Puck frowned. He had wanted more, but this was just another dead end. Puck restrained himself from showing his frustration. "I'll get this back to you as soon as possible and I'm sure we will be in touch."

Bill waited for a few seconds as Puck was turning his back before saying. "I know my boss is a dick, but I swear if I knew anything about that woman's room, I would tell you. It just isn't right and I'm sure I've only been told half of it."

"Again, thank you." Noah nodded before he shut the door and made his way to the elevator. His heavy heart already trying to contain the blow this made to their case. Still nothing substantial. Nothing to even give them a clue where to look next. Now with the FBI all over the case, Puck couldn't even beginning to wonder what conclusions they would make or how they would handle the case.

He flipped the usb in his hand. Maybe just maybe it would have something they could use.

* * *

Santana had decided to take the keys to Ronny, the department's joke of a vehicle. Apparently, Brittany and Macklin's secretary weren't exactly on the best of terms. While Brittany had been trying to find something around Puck's desk, Santana and the secretary had an interesting conversation concerning the tall, blonde, and drop-dead gorgeous PI. Not that long ago, Mack's secretary spent a good three days solid typing out memos for the chief concerning Brittany S. Pierce, PI. After typing the PI's name four hundred times, she had really acquired a distaste for the girl, but she did invite Santana to come over to her desk any time.

The moment Santana had acquired the keys from the secretary, Brittany strolled over and plucked them from the brunette's hand. Tilting her head, Santana watched as the blonde walked through the department, clearly intending for Santana to follow her. They didn't speak in the car ride and this time Santana didn't protest when Britt turned on the radio. "You already know where we're going? Sharon only gave us that Lindsey girl's number last night."

Besides getting plastered and fighting, they had talked to the owner of the night club to figure out why Rachel had been carrying around a matchbook with a girl's number on it. Sharon, the owner, had told them the signature and number belonged to a former waitress who used to work the tables at Reckloose. Sharon had been able to provide them with a current phone number for Lindsey Rowan.

"Talked to Lindsey this morning." Britt said not turning to look at Santana. She could already feel the Latina simmering. They had made a tentative truce after this morning. Besides, Britt couldn't remember the last time she had ever been frightened of Santana. That had been new and…shocking. The look in Santana's eyes – the blonde had seen it before when they were still kids in high school. Last night had definitely been a bad idea. She knew when Santana was on edge with her feelings.

In some ways, Britt felt comforted by the fact that she wasn't alone in her confusion. In other ways, she didn't want to lose whatever relationship they were establishing even if it was weak at best.

"I see." Santana's response spoke volumes.

Britt knew she was still in hot water with Santana and calling Lindsey had been the wrong move to make.

"I'm sorry about the gun thing." Santana spoke softly into the window. It was hard for her to admit when she was wrong.

Grunting in response, Brittany felt the urge to light another cigarette, but refrained. "I deserved it."

Pause.

Silence.

A deep breath.

"No, you didn't."

"Can I be sorry I wasn't there when you got another note?"

"Not your place to be sorry."

"But I still am."

The rest of the trip was spent in silence.

* * *

Puck wanted to waste no time with the video. He just couldn't believe the security camera caught nothing. But before he left, he wanted to make sure he was doing the thorough job the chief insisted the department do. Something made him want to question the hotel receptionist again. As he approached the desk, he could already feel the man tensing up, but Puck flashed him a reassuring smile along with his badge; as if he could have already forgotten who Puckerman was.

"Hi again, detective." The younger man offered. He couldn't be much older than nineteen; probably just out of high school. "Can I help you with something else?"

"Yes, actually. "Puck flashed him another smile. "I know you don't want to be bothered and you definitely don't want to bring your boss around anymore than necessary, but I think you could really help my investigation."

"Yeah sure as long as my boss doesn't see me talking to you." The boy glanced around nervously again.

"Is he hiding anything?" Puck asked.

"No, nothing like that. He's just weird about image and police don't make a good image."

"Yeah, I understand." Puck brushed it off. "Look I know you see things even the security cameras don't and since you were the one to take the phone message for Ms. Lopez, I'm sure you've been just a little skittish and maybe cautious. I know when we feel uneasy like that, we can be extra observant. Do you remember anything suspicious or strange the past day or so that wouldn't normally trigger you?"

"Look, Detective Puckerman, there hasn't been anything. I put two and two together when I saw that woman on TV and the way the police and have been in and out of the hotel. Obviously whatever message I took for her caused all sorts of problems and she tipped pretty well so I didn't mean for anything to happen. I was just doing my job."

"Whoa, son, calm down. I'm not investigating you. I swear. I just want to know your inside opinion. Has anyone been particularly interested in Ms. Lopez since her arrival? Staff? Guards? Other guests? Phone calls? Or I don't know…admirers?"

Finally settling down, the boy glanced around with a half-cocky nervous smile. "I mean, everyone here admired her cause you know…"

"Trust me. I know." Puck rolled his eyes. "But come on, anyone showing an interest to more than just her fine ass?"

"Well there has been some interest ever since those cameras caught sight of her on the TV with that whole dead girl thing."

"What do ya mean?"

"I mean, I guess some news channels must have found out where she was staying because I've seen a couple of those reporters vans around the block from different stations. A few of those reporters even tried to find out some more stuff about her so they've come to the main desk here." The boy glanced around again. "Our boss told us to tell them we had no comment or anything, you know like they do in the movies and to say we didn't even know who Ms. Lopez was. So that way they wouldn't be trying to find her. But she didn't return anyways so it wasn't a big deal. You've been here and the police teams, but the first time she's been back here was this morning with you so no one's even seen her here."

Reporting vans stalking Santana and his date had been a reporter.

Puck nodded. His mind was already connecting dots. When he had had drinks with Jocelyn, that reporter, maybe she had been doing that to get him away from the hotel and Santana so somehow someone could find a way to interview her or something. Noah's teeth were grinding as he said his thanks to the young man and walked away.

His fingers were already fumbling for the phone in his pocket before he could completely think through why he was mad at Jocelyn. Good thing he had taken Jocelyn's number last night after he had dropped her off at her apartment.

"Detective?" She asked pleasantly and obviously surprised. "I wasn't expecting a call so soon. You really do keep a girl guessing."

Annoyed, Noah felt betrayed she had used his trust and loneliness against him to get time to stalk his best friend. "Do you know anything about Ms. Lopez?"

The phone went silent. Puck could hear the gears grinding in her head as she tried to string together a response. "You mean the woman at the crime scene?" Another pause. Confused, the woman continued. "I thought you said this date thing wouldn't involve work at all?"

Impatient, Puck didn't want to play games. "What do you know about her?"

"Okay…" The reporter drew out her word finally realizing that this was an attack. The detective wasn't joking. "I did look your girl up after we got done with the small interview at the crime scene. I found out she wasn't an investigator, but some hot shot lawyer from California. Initially, I thought she was your girlfriend and that's why she was at the scene, but I also found some articles talking about how she worked on some equality cases out in California as well. She's a lesbian. I dug further and found out she was part of the original Strangler case, but left after the case got cold. One of her friends was killed back then."

Puck wanted to growl. He believed her, but that still didn't explain the news vans. "What were you doing stalking her at her hotel?"

"What?" Jocelyn bit back. "I haven't done anything of the sort. Is that what this is about? You think I'm harassing her? I haven't even seen her after that night. I thought this was going to be a no work relationship. So what's your problem?"

"There have been news vans outside of her hotel building the past few days."

"And you think I've been in them?" She scoffed. "For being a detective, you're doing a real bang up job of not checking your facts. I was with you last night, Noah, and I do work. I don't have time to spend sitting in a van. So how would I be stalking her?"

Simmering, Puck felt like an idiot for jumping to conclusions. His anger quickly morphed into realization that he had been a total ass. He had been looking for something to be wrong with her because last night had been too good. Nice, smart, sexy girls like Jocelyn didn't have time for guys like Puck – they had careers and high opinions of themselves. He had leapt to such ridiculous conclusions because he had wanted something to be wrong with her.

"Besides, there are other news stations and journalists trying to catch a big break on this case."

Stupid. His stomach bottomed out. That had been really stupid. She was right to chastise him.

"I-" Puck rubbed the top of his head. "Look, Jocelyn, I'm really sorry I jumped to conclusions. I'm a real fucking idiot."

He expected her to hang up the phone on him, but was surprised at the light laughter coming from the other side of the line. "It's fine. You are an idiot, but a protective one. I lied. I did a little more background on the two of you and I realized that you and your friend went to high school together. So I understand why you're so protective. It's actually kinda cute."

Red burst to his cheeks and he became suddenly aware that he was on the street surrounded by other people. People who could probably see just how hard he was blushing. He stammered.

"How about you make it up to me later with dinner? Bring that same line of questioning and see how far it gets you tonight." She made it sound like an order, a very suggestive order. Before Puck could agree or disagree, the reporter had already arranged time and when he would be picking her up. "Pick me up at seven and dress nice."

The phone went dead before he could say anything in response.

In disbelief, he looked down at the screen blinking end call with his mouth agape. He didn't just look like an idiot, he felt a fool.

"Damn women."

* * *

Britt parked the car in at some little coffee diner. It looked like an old mom and pop shop – reminded San of something she'd find in Lima. Nostalgia had a funny way of sneaking up. Her eyes glossed over the exterior. For a moment, the Latina allowed herself to think about her family, those friends, and everything she had on the east coast.

Even Breadstix.

A noise startled her. Her eyes glanced to the right. Brittany was standing outside her door and had casually opened it for Santana. Their eyes met. Each girl contemplated making a snarky remark, but after everything they had been through, they kept their mouths shut. Hesitating, Britt's mouth tugged at the edges and offered Santana a small smile before she turned back towards the diner. The smile still lingering on her lips, Santana reminded herself she was still sort of mad with Britt, but it was hard when she was wearing that ridiculous hat.

The diner wasn't overly crowded and Britt saw a younger woman sitting in the corner sipping at a cup of coffee. The woman nodded to them with a half-smile.

"You must be Detective Pierce." The woman said and stood up to offer a hand to the blonde.

"Yes, but you can call me Brittany and this is my partner-in-training, Santana." Brittany casually took the girl's offered hand and indicated to Santana. Her partner said nothing, but gave Britt a sideways glance. This wasn't the first time Brittany had impersonated a cop or a detective in this case. It made Santana wonder how many times Britt had done it before and if it was a common thing.

They took their seats.

The waitress brought over some more coffee for Lindsey and took food orders.

"Let's get down to business. We are conducting a few case studies in order to break in my newbie here and your name popped up in an unexpected way. So I was hoping you could help us out. It won't be much of a hassle and lunch can be on the city's dime." Brittany spoke smoothly. Her yellow beanie had already been removed. The long locks of her blonde hair wistfully clung to the sides of her face from the static. Even Santana believed Britt worked for the department. She had to do this all the time.

"I mean sure. Whatever I can do to help…" The girl said confidently, already feeling at ease.

"Do you know this woman?" Brittany pulled out a picture of Felicia Langan on her phone. Surprised, Santana sent Britt a questioning look, but the blonde ignored it. Why the hell would she have a picture of Felicia and why would she be showing it to this girl if the lead was for Rachel?

"No, sorry. I've never seen that woman in my life." Lindsey shook her head.

"Okay." Brittany nodded as if she had been expecting that answer. Her hands went back into her jacket and fished out a wallet from the inside pocket. Those long fingers lingered thoughtfully at the edges of the worn leather. Maybe because Santana had spent most of her life with those blue eyes sparkling without a care in the world, she recognized that deep pain when blue turned grey with regret and memories. Instantly, Santana thought of her own picture of Rachel. She didn't pull it out – ever. It was Rachel's senior year photo. In her own Berry fashion, she had somehow managed to work her way into Santana's friendship that last year of high school and promote herself at the same time. The girl's name had been signed at the bottom with a star next to it and a note of future friendship.

The creases across the middle of the picture spoke to how long Brittany had been carrying around that picture, but the worn edges at the corners of the picture drew Santana's eyes. Brittany had never given up.

She was still trying to make up for broken promises and their failure four years ago.

"Do you know this woman?" With great difficulty, Brittany managed to keep her voice even.

Recognition lit in Lindsey's face as she gingerly took the photo which meant she knew Rachel had died.

"Yes…" The girl whispered into the image as if recalling many memories. "Rachel…"

Both Santana and Brittany waited for a few moments.

"Can you tell me about your relationship with her?" Britt finally prompted.

"Sure." Shaking her head softly, the girl almost rolled her eyes. Both Brittany and Santana smiled, appreciating that Rachel seemed to have a similar effect on most people. "I was taking some classes at a community college while working at a couple different jobs. I was originally a theater major, but I had to drop out because of the money situation and I realized that I wasn't going to make any money anytime soon. So I started to work tables and rethink my education."

"I met Rachel at a bar for open mics. I still missed the theater so I liked to go and recite lines from plays and do a bit of readings. She flew into the place like a mad woman. I had never seen her before. And since she came by herself and sat in the corner, I assumed that she was new."

Ruefully, Lindsey shook her head. "She didn't realize it was one of those morose coffee shops. I finished my piece, a section from Middleton's _Duchess of Malfi,_ and she took the stage. Acapella. Belting out some Broadway number and looking at us all like we should be singing and dancing with her. Most of us were shocked. After she realized the ultimately terrified looks in her audience's faces, she backed out of singing the rest of her twelve song set."

"I felt bad for her. So I gestured for her to sit with me before she left."

"Nice of you." Santana broke in unable to stop herself from making a jab at Rachel even from beyond the grave. She knew the diva would have appreciated it.

"I thought so." Lindsey smiled and handed the picture back to Brittany. "I kindly explained to her that despite the advertisement for an open mic, it was mostly just poetry and plays and stuff like that. She proceeded to lecture me on the importance of interdisciplinary collaborations with the arts and the importance of proper advertising. She was…"

"Overbearing?" Santana offered.

Lindsey smiled knowingly, but shook her head. "Fiercely sincere. I liked her and we chatted. I complimented her singing voice and she said she had never heard of the play I had spoken my lines from. We ended up talking quite a bit."

"Anything more than that?" Brittany asked. Her phone was already out before the girl could respond. "The reason your name came up in our study, we found this in Rachel's things."

Now Lindsey took the phone and stared very closely at it for a moment before handing it back. "I gave that to her that night. I used to work tables at Reckloose while I was taking some classes. I always had those things in my pockets and it was easy. She wanted my number because she needed help studying for her theater class. Apparently, and I believed it at the time, her teacher believed her acting felt forced and too grand. Even the simplest lines she would overact and say with such flourish it felt like a crescendo that never ended."

Santana cut in. "So you were helping her with her schooling, but what were you getting out of it?"

"I don't know. I was still a bit of a romantic and still enamored by the arts. We would always go to these places that thrived on that type of vibe to run lines and study. So in a way, Rachel helped to keep that spirit of the theater I loved so much alive."

"So you guys weren't…" Santana trailed off. "…you know. She wasn't swinging for the other team or anything like that?"

Now Lindsey laughed. "Oh my god, no. No! Oh! You thought because of the Reckloose thing that we were together? Ha! No. I worked there, but Sharon, my boss, knew I was completely straight. In fact, I always picked up the wrong guy and Rachel was pretty similar in that respect. We were always commiserating about how bad we were at choosing our guys."

"So you were straight and Rachel definitely wasn't hitting on the ladies?" Brittany felt the need to definitely clarify since that was the only real link they had from Rachel to Felicia.

"No, no ladies for her. Although she joked that she had some lesbian friends who would frequent Reckloose a lot, but Rachel never went there as a patron. A few times, she came over after a shift to pick me up for some study sessions or would drop me off from one before my shift started." Lindsey finished her coffee. "In fact, at the time there was this other guy hanging around at some of our study sessions. He was a total stud and they definitely had chemistry."

"Have his name?" Britt asked.

"Sorry. It's been so long. Funny how I can remember everything about her though." Lindsey's eyes shifted to the side of the jacket Brittany had put the picture in. "She was something special."

"That's what we've heard from everyone we've interviewed so far, Ms. Rowan." Brittany spoke with the same authority when she had introduced them. Santana recognized the tone as a means to escape the guilt and memories they both associated with Rachel's death.

The waitress returned with plates of food.

Lindsey waited until she had left to ask her next question. "I know you said this is only a case study, but I can't help to think this has something to do with all those murders taking place."

Brittany frowned into her plate and glanced towards Santana shaking her head. "If we are being perfectly honest, the reason we are running this case study is so we can compare the two cases. You have been incredibly insightful and helpful. The police department appreciates that you've taken this time to help us."

"Anything to help. I just wish it was more." Lindsey also frowned. "Rachel did a lot for me. I am working as a part-time instructor at a high school as a substitute and I've taken over their theater productions as a result of her not letting me give up the arts."

"No, you've already done a lot. It puts…" Santana was going to say something along the lines of their minds at ease that Rachel hadn't been a closet lesbian or that she had been connected directly to Felicia, but she remembered they had a cover to maintain. "…it closes up some loose ends with our investigation."

They started to eat a little more, but Santana couldn't contain her curiosity. Years of refusing to think about New York and Rachel and…Brittany hadn't helped or remotely worked. Perhaps it was time for a new tactic. She had to know. "Since we have lunch, why don't you talk about Rachel for a bit."

"Will this help?" Lindsey asked in earnest.

"Maybe not with our investigation, but it helps to talk about our loved ones. I think they can hear us." Brittany offered, surprised at what Santana had suggested. She tried to not betray Santana's trust, but she was unable to stop the way her eyes softened as she glanced sideways towards those dark eyes. Even if they were hooded.

"If you'd been studying and hanging out for so long, why did she still have this matchbook with your number in her purse?" Santana asked.

Lindsey smiled. "She said it felt like a movie scene or the beginning of an epic play and that she'd never gotten a number on a matchbook. She thought it was so dated and, I think the word she used was thespian. She wanted to keep it like that. So she would always pull it out and call me at a phone or a phone booth once. She thought it helped to put her into character. I told her maybe she was too dramatic to make it in drama."

"I'm sure she loved that."

"Absolutely!" Lindsey laughed. "It was like the biggest compliment I could have given her."

"Only probably made her head bigger." Santana laughed and wiped at a tear leaking from the corner of her eye.

"Yeah it did." The girl's head cocked to the side. "You two knew her, didn't you?"

Santana and Brittany exchanged looks before smiling softly and nodding in agreement. They continued the rest of the lunch laughing, reminiscing, and talking about Rachel. It felt good and at the same time reminded them why they were still hunting her killer.

* * *

"So when did you decide to call Lindsey?" Santana asked with the slightest hint of danger in her voice. The Latina's eyes were on the road. She had enough of Britt's driving for the day and decided to take the wheel after their lunch with Lindsey.

"Yea…" Britt said rubbing the back of her neck. Not knowing what to say, she trailed off hoping Santana would drop the questions before they got into another fight. It was far easier to continue rubbing the back of her neck and ignore the Latina. She must have slept awkwardly last night.

"Couldn't have even waited for me?"

"I had the time and I didn't know where you were this morning." Britt quickly responded.

A slight blush crept up Santana's cheeks. Right, Brittany didn't know that Santana had been crashing on the blonde's bed this morning. She contemplated telling her, but it would lead to more questions and maybe rehashing their fight from the club. And for the moment, they had an uneasy truce.

Britt had backed off.

They were staring at each other for uncomfortable amounts of time, no winking, no head nods, and no alcohol. So far so good.

It was everything Santana had asked for and yet…

She had a hard time resisting the urge to glance over at Brittany and she could still feel it. That stupid fucking energy or whatever they shared – it was still there.

"Still, I thought we were working together, partner." No way would she let Britt get out of this – no matter what crazy feelings she was dealing with. Brittany had totally cut her out on Sharon's lead.

"Mad?" Brittany asked, even though they both knew the answer. "Going to pull a gun on me again?"

Now the slight tinge in her cheeks began to fully burn. She mumbled into the steering wheel. "I already apologized for that."

"No, please, no apologies. I wouldn't want you to get upset with me again."

Santana finally turned to face the blonde, ready to apologize for the tenth time, but she stopped. Brittany's eyes were already sparkling and aimed at her. Santana hadn't been prepared. Obviously Britt was teasing. Now the glittering light caught in those baby blues; it had been a long time since she thought about how just how blue Brittany's eyes really were.

Shit.

She needed to stop this.

"It won't be a gun next time." Santana inwardly groaned even as she smirked with the words. She really needed to stop, but keeping Brittany at a distance was proving harder than she originally intended. Focus. "You're changing the subject."

Playful. "Which was?"

"Being my partner…" Santana said the word, making sure to turn back to the windshield. "I don't want to keep getting cut out of your plans."

Brittany sat back in her seat with a soft smile on her face. "And what do I get in exchange?"

"Are you seriously making this a deal right now? There is no negotiation, Britt. I'm your partner so therefore I should be part of these decisions."

"Technically, I'm a one woman show. I haven't had a partner since-" She cut herself off before completing that sentence, but quickly recovered. "-for a long time. So I feel as if I give you something I should have to get something in return. It's called compromise. You do make deals, right? I've watched enough Law and Order to know there's deal making even with the hot, stuck-up attorney…"

Santana's grinding teeth could be heard. Brittany didn't dare to chance a glance at the other woman in the car. Her cheeks were fully inflamed now. "Really? You really wanna go there?"

Finally, Brittany turned to make eye contact. The playfulness was gone. It startled Santana, as she had been expecting this to be more playful banter between the two of them. Unsure how to proceed, Santana wanted to go the safest route and flat out deny Brittany, but she couldn't. "What would I have to give you in return for being your partner?"

Contemplating how to proceed, Brittany realized this was her last chance to not fuck things up with Santana. They could rectify last night's fiasco, but with new and different approaches. Obviously alcohol was a bad idea. Put on the spot, Brittany wanted to back-track and take back her offer so she could have more time to think about the best way to handle their uneasy truce. Instead, she spoke trying not to think, it always seemed to work around Santana. "Let's make it a favor."

Rolling her eyes, Santana turned back to the road. "A favor? Really? You want me to give you a free favor to just use anytime?"

"Don't you trust me?" Britt asked, already knowing the answer. In some ways, she had grown used to rejection. Santana had walked away from her at Chester's place and had pretty much told her time and time again that she wasn't worthy of trust. After last night, Brittany knew the answer would be 'no.'

"Yes."

Stunned, Brittany licked at her top lip as her heart pounded harder. She had not expected that. "Then I get a favor?"

"No."

"What?"

"Yes, to trusting you, but no, to the terms." Santana remembered Puck's words from their moment in Brittany's apartment. "You're low balling me."

"I'm pretty sure I'd know if I was low-balling you." Brittany said with a smirk.

"It definitely doesn't mean whatever you're thinking, perv." Again, Santana rolled her eyes and playfully made a swat at Brittany's arm. "I mean, you're cheating me out. I'm definitely worth a lot more than you bestowing the title of partner on me. I want more than the title."

"Excuse me?" Britt's heart stopped. Was Santana asking to be her like _partner_ again?

"I want my case notes – all of them. No games or sewers or ducks or hard hats. Just the box, Brittany." Santana cleared her throat, but didn't turn towards Brittany. "I think a favor from me is definitely worth a box."

"Deal." Britt turned in her seat and held out her hand for Santana to shake. Their eyes met as she stopped the car at a red light. The brunette glanced from the glaring red light streaming through the front window to the seemingly harmless gesture from her former ex-lover. She couldn't help but smile at the irony as if the world outside was telling her to stop with that red light blanketing over them. Yet, Santana's eyes met Brittany's as their hands came together.

The light turned green – time to move forward. The car lurched as Santana's heel pressed on the gas pedal.

* * *

The police station seemed relatively unchanged from before. Apparently the FBI didn't flap its wings and blow its dragon breath to collapse the building, but there was something different in the air. Both women felt it. "Think the FBI solved the case already?"

Britt's lips pursed at the question. Had it been anyone else asking, she would have lashed out, but since they both had such a high stake in the result, Brittany could only wonder. Would she be happy if the case ended without their help at all? Would she finally be able to put Rachel to rest? Her bright eyes glanced to the right. Santana's hair hung perfectly around her face; she must have taken a shower this morning to wash off the sweat of the club. How long would it take her to get over Santana this time?

"Doubt they did anything special." Brittany finally answered out loud, unsure if she wanted to address her personal questions.

"Pierce!" Macklin's voice bellowed from his office. "Hat."

The yellow beanie disappeared into the inner pockets of the blonde's leather jacket. Static clinging wisps of blonde hair stuck to the sides of her face and even mingled with some of Santana's own long locks.

"Office. Both of you." Macklin called. Obliged, they made their way through the desks and the looks from the department's actual employees. Puck looked up from the seat in front of Macklin's desk with a soft smile.

"Hey."

"I see you're back up the Mackster's ass where you belong. How long have you been in here polishing his cheeks?" Brittany whispered quietly into the detective's ear as she plopped onto the seat next to him. Santana tucked her legs underneath her own chair and smoothed her skirt down.

"First thing is first. I realize everyone knows the FBI has arrived and while I am anxious for their help on the case, I know that including the two – three of you - into the investigation could be questioned since you were all so heavily invested in the last case." Macklin stroked at the only hair on his face as he sat down as well.

"The FBI would eventually like to speak to you, Miss Lopez, about the notes you've received so far. I have already debriefed them, but they are making a new profile for the Strangler." Andy waited for Santana's nod before proceeding. "But they've also mentioned they would first like to reexamine and create their own preliminary profile before talking to you in order to establish their first thoughts since they don't normally have someone to talk with about harassment in a case like this and live."

Britt's eyes snapped up from the plaque she had been toying with on Macklin's desk at the word live. "Hey, let's keep those comments to ourselves. Santana is fine and she's going to be fine."

"Of course-"Macklin stuttered realizing how insensitive his direct comments had been.

"Britt…" Puck warned under his breath.

"Everything's going to be okay and if the feds don't need us right now, we will be more than happy to stay out of their way while Santana continues to stay alive."

"I didn't mean it like-"

"B…" Santana said softly, finally interjecting. "It'll be fine. I'd rather have straight up then be surprised when - if I'm attacked. I want honesty."

"Fine." Britt crossed her arms willfully and sat back into her seat.

"May I continue, Pierce?" Macklin rhetorically asked with a bite. "But you don't have to talk to them right away. In fact, I am sending you away for a few days unless you two have any new information to share with us on the case that would prevent you from leaving, Santana?"

"What do you mean sending her away?" Puck asked.

Ignoring Puckerman, Mackling continued to talk directly to Santana. "I talked to your boss this morning on the phone. While I dislike the idea of sharing, especially on a case of this magnitude, I realize that you are on loan and we must maintain a good relationship with your firm. You're requested back in California for a few days. I have your ticket here. And, Santana…you don't have to come back."

He slid the ticket across his desk; Santana paused for a moment before lifting it up. Scrutinizing the ticket, she realized it was round trip. But Macklin didn't expect her to use it the second time. In fact, Santana was sure this had to do with Terry probably feeling guilty about the danger she was in now. It would be only be a few days, but this was a ploy to keep her out of harm's way. "You know I am coming back."

"I expect nothing less." But his eyes said differently. He turned back to Brittany. "Uncover anything I should be aware of?"

"Nothing substantial. A few dead ends." It sounded more like a personal failure. Brittany's eyes were darting across the ticket in Santana's hand. Would she really leave and not come back?

"And I already gave the footage of the hotel security cams to our guys to process and analysis, I'm hoping it can give us some kind of break." Puck said so no one would notice Brittany had just checked out. The man knew exactly what she was thinking. Would Santana leave for good again?

"So…" Macklin's frown grew deeper. "Back to square one. Hopefully these suits can get something moving. Puckerman, you can drive Ms. Lopez to the airport when you're ready."

Dismissed, the three left Macklin's office in an awkward silence. Puck paused at his desk to pick up a few folders of paperwork when he noticed Santana's suitcase leaning casually on the side of the desk. "Hey, Tan, I think they are done processing your suitcase."

A note had been left: _Couldn't find anything. Chief said to give Lopez back the suitcase and keep the note for evidence. _

He passed it to his friend as he lifted it from the ground. "When does your plane leave?"

"In about two hours." Santana responded. Her hand lifted to grasp the suitcase handles, but Noah deftly avoided her fingers and continued to carry the case.

"Didn't really give you a lot of time…" Brittany searched through her jacket to find the yellow beanie. Anything to keep her thoughts and feelings from running rampant. This was Santana's golden ticket.

"No."

"Guess we should get going then. I have my cruiser outside waiting for us." Puck said as the three walked through security and out the front doors. Standing outside and waiting for Santana were four police officers.

"The fuck is this, Puck?" Santana looked the entourage of officers up and down before demanding an explanation from her friend.

His smile offered little comfort. "Sorry, Tan, the chief said that I wasn't to take you anyway without a guard duty to make sure you are protected."

"You gotta be fucking kidding me." Santana growled at the officers who tried their hardest to look uninterested in the conversation. "I've been assigned a detail. I am _not_ happy."

"Not so fun being babysat…" Brittany smirked and took a few steps in the opposite direction of the police lot where Puck's car would be. The smirk was short lived. Santana was leaving. Maybe it hurt more actually witnessing Santana make the decision to go instead of just arriving at the apartment and finding clothes thrown around. Brittany was the note leaver in their apartment. She had left notes on everything from the fridge to Santana's lunches, the walls, to their bed, and to Santana's forehead if Brittany had to leave early in the morning. Santana didn't leave notes. She had always been a force – like a great storm – and left her mark everywhere. They communicated differently, but effectively. All it took was the turning of the key to their shared apartment and Brittany had known Santana had left.

Better to get it over with quick. Santana would be safer in California anyway.

The brunette's eyes broke from glaring at the police officers at the sound of Brittany's voice. They both held the gaze as each woman tried to think of something to say. Brittany felt caught in the act of already giving up on them. She was trying to walk away first.

"Britt, I guess-"

"It was nice seeing you." Brittany finished Santana's sentence. "Be safe in Cali."

Santana's brows creased and created dipping lines over her eyes. This was a good-bye for Brittany, not a see you again. "I'll be back. It's only a few days."

"Sure." Brittany fingered the yellow beanie in her hands. It would be nice if she could make herself believe Santana.

Santana smiled softly as if nothing was wrong. "Try not to get into too much trouble while I'm away or that favor I owe you will turn out to be you begging me to represent you as your lawyer to get you out of jail. I don't put anything past Macklin."

"At least I know I'll have the best representation bribes and extortion can get."

They smiled at the private joke. Santana's words caught in her throat. Her eyes darkened like they did whenever Santana meant business. "Seriously, B, I'll be back."

And Brittany believed her. Her heart skipped a few beats. Fuck. She actually believed Santana would come back. It had been so long since she felt…hope. Brittany swallowed thickly. Emotions were difficult to control, but she needed to keep it together.

Santana would be back. With a deep breath, Britt nodded to herself and shook her head. Hope. Maybe it was time to fall into it and let it take her somewhere. A surge of confidence and bravado returned to the PI as she reconnected her eyes with Santana's.

"I know…" Cocky, Brittany winked as she pulled the yellow beanie back down on her hair. "…partner."

The blonde finished adjusting the ugly yellow cap as she strode away. And Santana knew her dark eyes weren't the only ones following those swaying hips as they strutted purposely down the street. After a few seconds, Puck ushered her into his vehicle. Wordlessly, Santana slid into the passenger seat next to him. Her fingers brushed through the lipstick, her wallet, tissues, random change, a few dollar bills, some paperwork, and her favorite eyeliner to the back zipper of her purse. The coarse material of a torn black hat had settled comfortably into the dark hidden chamber of her designer bag. The slightest of smiles tugged at the edge of her lips.

Partner.

* * *

**So I wanted to thank the anon who posted a song rec for Sirens! I absolutely live and die for music and I loved the song. I immediately downloaded it and put it on my playlist specifically for Sirens. Thanks! So if anyone else has some song recs, pleeeeeease give me some in the comments or a message or even on tumblr. I have to be listening to music to get my mojo rising. ;)**

**As for **_**Sirens**_**, in my mind, this was the end of the first major part of the story. We're about to start a major arc that I am really excited about. :D me beaming. **

**Unfortunately, this is officially the last four weeks of my semester and that always means one of two things. I actually buckle down and start doing my work for school or I start procrastinating to the extreme and I bang out a lot of chapters or one-shots. So don't be surprised if I disappear for awhile or if your inboxes are flooded with alerts. **

**Finally, I wanted to continue thanking everyone who writes such awesome things at the end of every chapter. And I want to give a big hello to all the new people who alerted or favorited.**

**Hi!**


	15. Chapter 15

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 15**

_He fingered the top of his wife's jewelry case, the one her mother had handed down to her and her mother before her. The case had apparently been passed down through the years and given to the youngest daughter in each generation. The gold inlay had been hand crafted and delicately worked into the wood. His mother-in-law had made a point to explain the rich history of the family heirloom and why it had to be passed on to his wife at her wedding. At the wedding reception, he had been so attentive; so eager to listen._

_The case meant nothing to him. It had never meant anything to him._

_But the necklaces, which lay inside on the plush purple velvet, had held his wife's mother's jewelry and her mother's before that. The velvet now held new ornaments he had purchased not with money, but with women's lives. Those were the necklaces which held his fascination. His fingers danced across their chains without touching, yet he could feel the energy emanating and pulsing from them. Each held the life – no, not the life – the death of a young woman._

_A chill shocked his system at the thought. Goosebumps erupted all over the surface of his skin._

_Ghosting over the necklaces with his extended fingers, his lips silently moved echoing names like an ancient litany. Each necklace held another story – another life. All his, not all of them accounted for. He could see others hiding in the spaces between. His methodology had morphed and evolved over the years. Only recently had he taken a fascination with the glittering objects which surrounded the neck of his women. His fingers hovered over them as he took his time and relished each memory that accompanied the gold charms:_

_The small bird_

_The horseshoe_

_The cross_

_A star_

_The softball_

_The heart_

_The angel_

_Gently, like a father lifting a newborn for the first time, he raised the first gold necklace from the velvet. The contact of the thin metal between his fingers sent wave after wave of pleasure through his body. He remembered the girl who had worn this particular necklace._

_How could he forget?_

_She had been one of his firsts, certainly not the last, but one of his favorites. When she ran from him, the chase had been exhilarating. Long brown tresses blown back in the wind; her tight dress and those high heels had only slowed her down. But she tried. Oh Lord, she tried. They all tried, but this one in particular had that fighting spirit._

_And when he had finally put his hands around her throat…_

_One hand still fingered the thin necklace while his other hand dropped to the hem of his pants toying with the drawstring._

_Oh yes, he remembered her and he remembered the gold chain catching the light from a distant street lamp. The way her eyes widened with surprise, anger, shock, and fear. So much fear. The telling eye-lock they shared sealed the girl's fate. They both knew in that moment when their eyes met as his full body slammed into hers that she would never escape. She would never leave him._

_What was her name again?_

_His eyes looked to the charm on the gold chain – a small bird wings spread, the same golden color as the chain._

_Yes, her name was Lana, but everyone called her Laney. It only took a few moments, but she finally stopped struggling. Finally, her eyes closed, but he could see her chest rising up and down. Not dead yet. Perfect. The glint of the blade in his hand seemed dull in comparison to the light that had previously been in her eyes._

_His hand dipped lower now and slipped underneath the cotton of his pajama pants while his fingers stroked the golden bird._

"_I just put the children to sleep." A soft woman's voice floated to him almost snapping him out of his mood. "Are you coming to bed yet?"_

"_I'll be right there." He called back, but then added as an afterthought. "Honey, you haven't worn that bird necklace I bought for you in awhile. I'd love to see it around your neck tonight."_

_Yes, Laney. She would never leave him now._

_The man turned towards the door of his bedroom and found his wife casually sitting on their marital bed. _

"_Took you long enough."_

_Only smiling with that distant look in his eyes, the man walked across the room and positioned himself right behind her. His wife didn't move, but waited patiently. Trembling with anticipation, the bed shifted and sank as his right knee pressed into the mattress right behind her body. With confidence he knelt directly behind her exposed and vulnerable back, which was only lightly covered by a sheer night gown. Reverently, he pushed aside the strands of her hair from the back of her neck. The white skin caught the light of their night stand lamps. _

_Two strong hands wrapped around her neck._

_She mewled at the touch, tilting her head to the side as she waited. The man unhooked the golden necklace chain and dangled it around the front from behind. The small bird charm harmlessly bounced against her collarbone. The small latch in the back easily hooked and his wife turned around with a small smile._

"_I always liked this one. Thanks, honey."_

_She settled back under the comforter and reached for the light on the nightstand. Darkness enveloped the room. He sighed contented with her. His arms possessively wrapped around her, already pleased with himself. _

_One last thought on his mind before he drifted to sleep. _

_Laney. She would never leave him._

_His wife turned around to face him under the covers. Her hands pushed down at the elastic band around his waist and ran along his stomach. His hands went back to her neck pushing at loose strands of hair that blocked his vision of the golden necklace. He needed to see the bird. Images of Laney's eyes going dead filled his mind again. _

_Yes. Laney. His body rolled into his wife._

* * *

**End Part 1**_  
_


	16. Chapter 16

**Despite the creep factor, I really enjoyed writing that last chapter even if it was anxiety inducing. I've had that in my saved files and I've been patiently waiting to add that chapter into the story somewhere. Loved all the reactions. They were priceless and made the last week bearable! :D**

**Presenting...  
**

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 16**

The PI felt like explaining that she didn't do lines. She had never done lines. Long fingers ran along the sharp edge as she fidgeted and attempted to brace herself. Over and over again, Brittany tried to tell herself to just leave and forget about it.

This was not the way to handle her feelings. This was most certainly not the way to handle the anxiety or the unknowing.

The unknown. It was overwhelming and noncommittal and panic inducing at the same time.

She felt sets of eyes around her adding unnecessary pressure to the situation. They were waiting and urging her to take her turn too.

"Pierce!" An overly familiar voice interrupted her from her thoughts. The blonde glanced up. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Casually, she placed the contents in her hands down onto the magazine rack to her left. Her eyes scanned for something to replace it. She latched onto a pack of gum right as a tall, well-built, shaved, and dark-eyed man walked up next to her. Suspicious, Puck looked into Brittany's hands as if she had been hiding something, but all he saw was a pack of bubble gum.

Flavor: Licorice?

Puck narrowed his eyes, but didn't comment. He slid his stuff onto the grocery store's conveyer belt in front of the lengthening line.

"Hey buddy!" A guy called from behind. "You can't skip the line!"

"We're police officers, sir."

"We're police officers, sir."

Both Britt and Puckerman flashed their credentials despite the fact only one of them was officially employed by the great city of New York.

"Why'd you run off like that?"

"I didn't run off." Britt readjusted the knot of her thin black tie as she fiddled with the pack of gum next to Puck's supply of beef jerky, energy drinks, and carrots. "Really?"

She lifted the baby carrot bag in the air with a certain amount of distain.

"Yeah, really…they're healthy." Puck mumbled as he snatched them from Britt's grip and handed them to the cashier with a smile. "And I like them."

"Yeah, okay, whatever you say." Britt scoffed. "Bet your girl eats carrots…"

"She's not my girl and maybe she occasionally nibbles." Puck pulled out his wallet and smiled at the cashier as if to apologize for their conversation.

"Disgusting…" Brittany shook her head unable to fathom her best friend falling prey to the wiles of a woman. Not just the wiles, but this Jocelyn's every beck and call. Puck had entered into a relationship. Brittany didn't hide her grimace.

"Oh come on, Britt!" Puck said exasperated. "You picked up licorice gum! I didn't even know they sold that and you're talking about my choice of food?"

"Didn't want it anyway." Disinterested, Britt sighed and threw the pack of gum back onto the shelf. She crossed her arms and stared at the cashier waiting for Puck to finish his transaction. Now the detective knew something was wrong before he had joined her in line.

Flavor: Suspicious.

"You know, you can talk to me, right?"

"About what?" Britt feigned ignorance and distracted herself from Puck's gaze. She threw a pack of DOTS on the belt. "Nothing to talk about."

Frowning, Puck knew a deflecting tactic when he saw it.

"That'll be $15.39, officer." The boy said. Puck nodded and handed him a twenty. The boy took hold of the bill, but didn't pull back. He awkwardly flapped the thin piece of paper in the space between them.

"Can I help you with something else?" Puck asked.

"Well I was wondering if the lady was still considering getting the calendar." The young boy looked towards the candy shelf where the magazines were next to the check-out counter.

"The lady?" Confused, Noah shot Brittany a look as if to ask how crazy this cashier was, but he recognized Brittany's face. It was one she had when she was trying to pretend she was the ditz from high school.

Flavor: Odd

"Britt? What's he talking about?"

"Nothing. I don't know what he's talking about. Buy me a pack." Brittany growled and moved away from the stand back towards the line.

"Can you people hurry it up?" The same angry man from before asked.

"Just ring it up with one of those." Puck pointed to a random cigarette pack with an exasperated sigh. His eyes were only on Brittany, who was scowling at the magazine rack like she had laser vision. He'd ask what was wrong, but he knew the question. Today was the day Santana should have been coming back, but the word had already come down from Mack.

No Santana.

In fact, besides a few procedural updates from Santana like: Her plane landed; Nothing new on the notes; She talked to the FBI on the phone, they hadn't heard anything from her. Not even a nice text to say: Hey Puck I hate you.

Nope nothing.

It had been hard the first time, but everything had been hard so Puck had been able to compartmentalize all those feelings. Britt had…dealt with things. But right now? He glanced back at her fidgeting with the magazines and pretending to do something. She would talk to him when she was ready. Besides, maybe Santana was taking the flight and just hadn't told Macklin. Puckerman frowned and picked up the plastic bag from the counter. The cashier handed back the change. Whatever Britt had been hiding, Puck knew better than to ask. He took a few paces towards the door to give Brittany the opportunity to buy whatever she wanted without his questions.

Blue eyes slid to watch Puck walk away.

"You." Brittany turned back to the nosy cashier and slammed the calendar back down onto the conveyer belt. Her finger pointed only an inch away from the boy's face in a threatening and menacing manner. The finger wagged. But the man didn't waver or fix the smug look on his face. Brittany's eyes narrowed as she tried to intimidate him. It just wasn't working. "You…"

"So you will be buying the calendar, officer?"

"Oh, you're a cheeky one, aren't you?" Brittany tried once more to glare the boy down, but he only returned that cocky smile. "Ugh!" She threw her hands in the air and pushed the calendar further down the belt. "Yes. Give me the fucking calendar. Ring it up already."

A few minutes later, Brittany joined Puck outside the store. He was patiently standing there with his Blue Jackets cap on and his cigarette in hand. A few puffs of smoke floated aimlessly upwards above his head.

"Hey, jackass." Brittany pushed her yellow beanie further down her forehead to block out the cold. "Pass me one of those."

He did so and passed along the lighter. "Get your stuff?"

"Yea. It wasn't important." She exhaled through her nose. The color of the hat next to her caught her eyes. "You know hockey's never coming back right? Besides shouldn't you be a Rangers' fan?"

Another of Britt's deflection tactics, but Noah knew better than to press Brittany to explain the calendar.

"Ha? Ranginas? Never." Puck said with a scoff. "I'd be an Islanders fan before that."

Britt laughed with her nose and smoke slipped out. "Shouldn't say that too loud. You'll be back on traffic duty with all the rookies."

"Probably." Puck shook his head. "I might have lived here for so long that I can call myself a New Yorker, but some parts of home gotta stay with us no matter how far away we go. When's the last time you went home?"

The cold air grew frigid. Britt's bright blue eyes glazed over. Why'd he have to try? Why was he still with her? Any sane person would have left her a while ago. Any sane person would have left her four years ago. Britt frowned. She had promised herself that she wouldn't think of that _sane_ person. "Dunno. It's been forever."

Enough with the small talk. "Why'd you buy the calendar, Britt?"

The blonde shuffled, but didn't walk away. Instead she took another drag from the cigarette and attempted to think of a better response than the truth. The truth was so pathetic; it disgusted her and made her feel sick.

"I didn't buy anything."

Noah raised his eyes at the plastic bag hanging in her hand, but again chose to remain silent. A few more moments passed. Brittany's stomach turned at the time spent in silence. It was eating her alive. Fucking Puckerman with his fucking silent good friend gig, it was maddening. All she wanted was to be left alone to wallow in peace.

"Any word?"

Now he was getting somewhere. They both needed to get Santana off their chest. "No. But that doesn't mean anything. Besides the case has gone cold in the past week."

"She's probably safer there." Brittany nodded as she tried to convince herself more than Puck. "It's better this way."

"Yeah…" Puck said knowing neither of them believed it. Nothing was better. Nothing was okay. And this Santana thing combined with the Strangler was only growing worse. To top it all off, there had been no new leads, no new kills, and no anything going on since the Latina had boarded her plane and flew back to the west coast. Nothing. "She's safer out there."

"Yeah…" Brittany breathed the word out with little passion. Her eyes lidded. The butt of the cigarette was discarded with an exaggerated flick of the wrist. She stomped it out with the same extra force. She repeated. "It's better this way…it would be stupid for her to come back. No need to even think about it. We can just go back to the way we were."

Puck nodded. He knew this would be the most conversation about Santana he would get from the PI. At least it was something. He tossed his own smoke to the ground albeit with less aggression than Brittany. "Speaking of old times. Do we really have to stake out the park tonight?"

"We just bought all the supplies and now you want to back out? What do you have going on tonight that could be better?" Brittany climbed into the passenger seat of Puck's cruiser.

Flashing Brittany puppy dog eyes, Noah glanced to his phone on the dash just as Jocelyn's name was lighting up.

"Seriously? Didn't you see her last night?"

"Kinda. I mean I hung outside her studio till she got off work and then I drove her home."

"Gross." Brittany shook her head.

"It's not!"

"No, that's bad, Puckerman. I feel like I might barf on you." Brittany shook her head again. Puckerman had been neutered in a matter of a week by this woman. If she knew he wouldn't tag along, Britt would have ordered him to drop her off at the Ruffed Grouse for a few drinks. "Just take me back to my place."

"Sure, Britt." Puck pulled out of the parking space. "You know…if you need someone to talk to, I'm always here for you. Just you know…tell me when you're ready."

Britt didn't respond. She couldn't. Her eyes were clouding over as she repressed rejection and that dismissal feeling of abandonment. She had been stupid to believe Santana would return. That had been reckless. Brittany had spent the past four years being reckless with everything except her heart. The wound ached and reminded her that she shouldn't have opened herself up again.

* * *

Not long after their trip to the grocery store, Britt waved good-bye to Noah as he drove off to yet another date with his lady reporter. Staking out the park had been a bad idea anyway – Britt knew this as she had been staking it out for the past three days. Nothing even remotely interesting. At her door, Brittany pushed it opened without even bothering to dig for the keys. The last time she had locked the door had been when Santana had attempted to barge into her apartment. The apartment was a mess. Nothing had changed. Bottles were scattered all over the floor and mingled into her discarded clothes. There probably would have been an odd smell if she ever ate in the apartment, but she couldn't remember the last time she had cooked anything. A small flick of her wrist and an empty DOTS container joined the piling mess on the floor.

"Ugh." Britt flopped down on the couch covered by clean, but never folded and therefore forgotten, laundry.

Why couldn't she at least text to say she was okay? Brittany groaned into her hands. She had promised herself that she wouldn't even think about Santana, but it was proving to be impossible. It was for the best. The killer was nowhere near her and they could resume life the way it had been. Her eyes glanced to the closet where some of Santana's old clothes were hiding. How pathetic. Here she was wishing she had something tangible – something real to remember Santana had actually blown through her life again. After a week, everything was starting to blur again.

She needed something. It felt like a band-aid had been violently ripped from her insides and left to burn with infection. She needed a salve. Anything. Years of habit made her glance towards half empty bottle on the end table.

Alcohol? She tried that the fourth night alone in the apartment without word from Santana. The attempt had proven fruitless. Alcohol had been inadequate. She was already swimming in a heavy daze without the intoxication. Something real.

Crystal clear eyes glanced towards the kitchen. Real. Real.

It was hard to sprint in the small apartment which resembled a disaster zone, but Britt had always been agile and light-footed.

It had to be here. Brittany's hands furiously attacked the top layer of the trashcan with manic fervor. Crumpled pieces of paper, an old wrapper to some candy, and some other unrecognizable pieces of trash were strewn about the floor. She kept digging and digging, but felt her frustration mounting as she couldn't find the object she was searching for.

"Come on!" Brittany screamed at the trashcan and threw it against the kitchen wall in rage. "I know it's there!"

But the now scattered remnants of the trash can still showed no signs of hat. A great sense of loss and anger welled deep within her. Clearly she was some sort of joke to the universe. She barely remembered coming home that night from the club. It had been black and dark. Everything in the world had been spinning around her. But she distinctly remembered the morning after. Furious, Britt had tried her best to remain quiet and conscious enough to leave the apartment without waking her bed partner. She didn't even remember taking anyone home with her. But she did remember the hat in her hand. The ridges and seams had been held in her hand for so long that they had left an impression in her palm.

When she had thrown the piece of the hat into the trashcan, Brittany had wanted to forget how royally she fucked up with Santana. Now she just wanted something to remember the brunette by. Of course it had disappeared from the trash, just like Santana had disappeared to the west coast somewhere. Why should she be surprised? It felt like everything would be going back to "normal". Her eyes glanced to the grocery bag with a certain amount of distain, the projection of feelings she felt for herself at the moment. What was the point?

Maybe she needed that drink after all.

She picked up her phone to dial for someone who would drive her to the Grouse. Better to forget than to remember she was still alone.

Hours and hours later, Brittany stumbled back into her apartment. Surprisingly, she had been sober-ish enough to know she didn't want and didn't need to bring anyone home with her. She wanted to remain alone. The lights flickered pathetically as she fell from room to room over the mess. Even in her inebriated state, the blonde glanced towards the trashcan still leaning against the far wall of the kitchen. It hadn't moved from when she had thrown it earlier that evening.

Right.

She just wanted to sleep the whole world away. The bedroom called to her, but she still couldn't muster the strength to tear her eyes away from the trash can. She knew she had thrown it away that morning. Why would it be gone?

Why didn't Santana call her or text her or tell her that she was coming back?

With vivid clarity, Brittany remembered the night Noah had driven San to the airport. They had stood outside the police station and that shared connection passed between them. It had been so concrete and so intense, the moment made Brittany believe they could somehow work together again. She believed in that moment in hope – the possibility of future happiness.

She believed Santana would return.

"_Seriously, B, I'll be back."_

Torn between reality and that brief fleeting moment with her ex-lover, Brittany glanced to the stupid bag from the grocery store again. Then she looked back to her bed. It would be so much easier to go to sleep with another few drinks and wake up the next morning with a headache than to proceed.

"_Seriously, B, I'll be back."_

Over and over Santana's voice echoed. God, she hated herself for hesitating to trust Santana. But it was better late than never. Drunk and off-balance, Brittany made her way over the bag. She picked up the calendar. The Scooby-Doo calendar was probably marketed to a younger age group, but Brittany didn't care. It carried a weight of nostalgia when she had seen it on the shelf. A loose paper slipped from between the pages of the calendar. A devious smirk formed in her lips. She had forgotten about that.

On the floor was a picture of a cat which could have been the spitting image of Lord Tubbington. She had seen the cat calendar next to the Scooby-Doo one and had torn out the picture the LT looking cat and stuffed it into the one she wanted to buy. She rifled through the drawer of the kitchen and found some unused tacks in one of them. First, she tacked the picture of the cat onto the wall. Then she stuck the calendar up. The sharp point of the tack easily penetrated the dry wall of the apartment. She set the trashcan back up and stared at the numbers and boxes.

Back in the drawer, Britt extracted a red marker. She drew a big "X" in the box on the date Santana had left and drew another red "X" again and again in every subsequent date since her ex-lover had been gone. When she finally arrived on the current day, Brittany paused. This was the day Santana's ticket would have brought her back. Slowly, the PI filled the entire block in until it was completely red.

Brittany threw the marker back down onto the counter and picked up the bottle as she walked away. Was this what feelings did? On the surface, Brittany felt pathetic, but deep down she needed something to connect her back to that moment when Santana had looked at her.

"_Seriously, B, I'll be back."_

"You better." Brittany responded intoxicated to the missing Santana.

* * *

7 Days

"Good night?" Puckerman passed the PI a steaming hot cup of coffee. The blonde only grunted in response. Her lips to the Styrofoam, Britt looked towards Macklin's office then strafed towards the makeshift office for the FBI. They had been here for a week now and had done nothing ground breaking or revolutionary. Despite the royal fuck up of Macklin's predecessor, the police department had really processed every piece of evidence from the last case and had discovered nothing.

"Hear anything yet?" Brittany asked quietly and secretly wished Noah didn't hear her.

"No…" Puck answered without meeting her eyes.

"Good."

"Good?" Confused, Noah made a quick step to follow Brittany through the desks. "Why good?"

"Like we decided last night, it's better if she doesn't come back." The PI said firmly, but even she didn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. Last night, she had decided that she would wait for Santana. She had to retain that hope. Putting up a front of bravado was better.

Sensing that he would lose any argument with Brittany at this moment, Noah let the comment slide as they entered the meeting room for debriefing. The FBI was already at the front of the room and chatting in hushed voices with Macklin. Brittany had done her best to remain under their radar so her presence wouldn't be questioned as part of the investigation. Their conversation lulled for a moment as she took a seat next to Puckerman and their eyes made the smallest of motions towards her. She doubted she had really been as stealthy as she wanted to believe.

The problem with having no direct contact with the FBI meant Brittany had to get all her information about them from Puck. There was Charles – he was the taller one. And then other dude – Brittany had forgotten his name. And then there was a short, old one named Agnes and she seemed like a crazy, hard ass bitch. Britt had decided that if she were to ever get old, she would probably turn out to be like Agnes, but not so wrinkly.

They all shared another moment where they met glances, but Agnes quickly turned everyone's attention back to their profile. Britt frowned as she realized they were giving the police department the same profile they had from four years ago – white, male, forties, bad childhood. All the same. Nothing new. Her irritation increased, but she said nothing. She would just have to continue her investigation without the FBI's help.

Later that day she ended up chasing Croc and the hens under the sewer system again. Normally she did so with relish and felt accomplished afterwards. When Patty opened the door to take back the escaped animals, Brittany noticed the frown on the older woman's lips. She couldn't help feel as if she had somehow failed the cosmos by letting Santana walk away a second time.

* * *

10 Days

Three days after she had bought the calendar and now ten days since Santana had returned to California, Brittany was wet – soaking wet and running. Her boots hit the sidewalk at a breakneck speed through a back alleyway. In the back burner of her consciousness, Brittany was thankful she was still wearing the beanie instead of her hat. It would have already been blown off her head. Her black leather jacket only did so much to stop the biting chill from the winds sweeping through the streets. Ahead of her a shadowed man's feet were pounding on the cement at the same rapid pace as Brittany.

For the past three days she had been watching the park all by her fucking self since Macklin had Noah doing "other things" and Noah had Noah doing things that started with a Joce and ended with Brittany being alone at night. She had been watching this guy now for the past three days sneaking around the park and hiding out behind things – granted, she too, had been hiding out behind things, but she was positive this man wasn't employed by the city.

Especially not after he jumped a passing woman on a trail.

Adrenaline pumped through her body as she rounded another corner. The darkness penetrated by distant street lamps and lidded window shades.

Brittany had been more surprised at the man's attack than probably the woman being attacked herself. The last two nights she had seen this guy overlook about three dozen women without even blinking an eye from his little perch in the shrubs. He had been so well hidden, Brittany almost missed him. But once she had noticed his hiding spot, Brittany had managed to get into a good position herself to watch him from afar in Ronny, the old beat up car from the department. Only watching him watch other women, Brittany had been convinced that he was just some creep peeper. When he jumped from his bush onto that woman, Brittany literally flipped her coffee in the air all over the interior of the car as she burst out full speed towards him.

He must have heard her coming towards him because he started to book it. A second's glance told Brittany that the woman was just fine if not shaken. There was no time to waste.

And here she was, still chasing this mother fucker.

A glance back towards her and his shoe caught onto the cement. Lacking grace and balance, the man toppled forward onto his face right as he made it back onto the main street. Britt smirked knowing she had him. Years of conditioning and work-outs, not to mention the years of dancing, she was still incredibly fit despite her less than appealing lifestyle. Without giving him an opportunity to escape, Brittany collided into his body full force.

They rolled into the middle of the street. He wasn't fighting anymore. His body remained limp as Britt shoved his face hard into the ground. "Stay the fuck down!"

"I didn't mean to do anything!" He pleaded.

"Shut the fuck up!" Everything about this guy screamed he wasn't the killer. When she had chased the masked man from Felicia's body, he had moved with unbelievable fluidity and grace. He had outrun her completely. This guy hadn't made it very far and he certainly wasn't as graceful, but he did just attack a woman, so she couldn't just let him go. "Hold the fuck still!"

She reached back for the cuffs, but blinding lights of blue and red flashed all around her. Stunned from the sudden intrusion and light, Brittany flinched from the noisy police vehicles pulling around them on the street in a tight and aggressive circle formation.

"Oh shit! You're a fucking cop?" The man asked below.

"I said shut up." Britt gave him another shove. She sure as fuck wasn't a cop and this was a solo stake out so why all the sirens and lights?

"Drop your weapon and put her hands in the air." A voice from a megaphone sounded.

"Fuck no!" Brittany yelled back. She put a hand over her forehead to try to shield the blinding light so she could find the source of the orders. "You turn out your fucking lights and maybe I'll put down the cuffs."

"Place your firearm and the hand cuffs on the ground and step away." The voice sounded again.

"Maybe you should do it." The man underneath her pleaded with big eyes. "I don't wanna get shot. Please just put them down."

"This is your last chance."

"Please! Just put them down."

She was furious. Why the fuck was she being treated like a criminal? "I'm with the fucking department you fucking assholes!"

Even though she was fuming and yelling, the blonde still dropped her cuffs to the ground and slowly reached back for her firearm. Careful to show them she intended no harm, the PI slid the gun on the ground towards them and very un-gently stood up from the man's back. The moment she moved away, a swarm of officers crowded in and forcibly lifted the man from the ground. Within minutes he was read his rights, cuffed, and thrown into the back of a cruiser.

Growing angrier by the second, Brittany's jaw clenched as she watched the police officers work around her with her hands still raised in the air. After they had finally loaded the man into the car, Brittany was ready to burst. She grabbed the closest officer to her. "Who the fuck is in charge here?"

"Sorry, Pierce, it was orders."

"Yeah, but from whom?" She snarled even though she knew the guy from the bar. He wasn't that bad and he was handing back her gun and cuffs.

He cringed before even saying the name. "Greene."

"You got to be fucking kidding me." Brittany wanted to scream, but she kept her voice dangerously low so no one else could hear her. "Thanks. Sorry about you know…" She trailed off as she let the man's shirt go.

"Nah, I would have attacked someone too if some asshole pulled that shit on me. Good work running down that suspect. I'll get out of your way." He gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder before walking off. Brittany nodded, but she was already looking around for the man in charge. Without the glaring spotlights focused directly on her, Brittany quickly found the source of her problem. He was laughing and chatting up another officer as if he hadn't just been a complete prick. The weight of the gun in her hand made her contemplate using it, but she tucked it safely back into her pants.

"What the fuck was that?" Britt asked and broke into the middle of the conversation.

Derek Greene, smug as ever, casually turned back to Brittany with a smile. "Standard procedure."

"The fuck that was standard procedure." She growled trying to not let him get to her, but it was so hard. She wanted to rip that smirk right off his face. Since Noah had dragged her away from laying Derek flat, Britt had been successfully avoiding the asshole.

"What? You didn't like it? I thought you were always one to fuck procedure and just do things however you wanted."

"Fuck you." She didn't want to get into it with him. One slip up and she would be closed out of Macklin's case without appeal. "How the fuck did you know where I was? And how the fuck did you get here so fast? I didn't call back up and I didn't want it."

"Oh you mean – how was _I_ able to apprehend a possible suspect for the case?" The tone of his voice told Brittany all she needed to know. This had been a power play. He leaned in and Britt wanted to instinctively pull back, but she remained perfectly still even though she could smell his breath. "I knew you would never play it by the book and maybe you'd do your own work without the department at all. I bet you'd love to catch the Strangler all by yourself without the department. I had a guy tailing you hoping to see if you got any good leads on the case. He tipped me off the second he realized you were staking out the park. All I did was wait for the right moment to pull the operation trigger and swoop in for the perp. Thanks for all the leg work by the way. Catching this killer is going to put me next in line for Macklin's position."

"You're a fucking prick." Brittany wanted to lunge at him, but resisted. One strike and she'd be done. Her heart was pounding, but she forced herself to even out her breathing. She couldn't lash out at him. Her mind kept telling her to let it go. Besides, she knew this couldn't be their killer. His body language and even the way he pleaded for his life were the opposite of the profile and certainly didn't fit the confident assailant she had attempted to track down four years ago. If she let Derek steal this collar, then he could explain his reasons without mentioning that he had some goon following her around. "I'm out of here."

"Sure you are. See you around, Pierce, maybe at my commendation ceremony."

* * *

11 Days

"I hate him." Brittany mumbled into her coffee the next day. New Girl had offered her a chair, a wink, and a few other things this morning, but Brittany had only opted for the chair so far. At Puckerman's desk, she was glaring towards Macklin's office where she knew Derek Greene and one of his asshole buddies were having a meeting with the chief.

"You and everyone else." Puck half-heartedly responded. He was too occupied scrolling through the video from Santana's hotel for the thousandth time since it had been returned to him. Anyway, he had heard how much Brittany hated Greene for a few years, it was nothing new.

"Except for those dipshits who would do anything for him."

"As much as you hate him, he's still a decent cop. You shouldn't be surprised that he sent someone to pick up that woman."

"Yeah, but it would have been better if he didn't. He really thought he caught the Strangler. What a fucking cocky asshole."

"It would have been funny to see him explain to the chief that he pulled an entire district to respond to a domestic case between a husband and his wife."

Brittany snorted into her coffee. "All those cops were there for something so harmless. I mean, I guess I fell for it too since I was the one who originally chased after him, but at least I wasn't pulling resources. What kind of husband decides that he wants to stress the importance of his wife carrying mace by hiding out in shrubbery for a few days until she finally takes that path for running? That shit's crazy."

"I guess he just really cared about her."

"Or he needs a better hobby?" Brittany offered.

"So he's really making Peterson take the fall for him?"

"I was eavesdropping around the office this morning and half of them know the truth, the other half heard that Peterson had become enamored of me and was following me around to make sure I was safe. When he saw the assault happening, he immediately called it in to Greene. And that's why all available units were called in. Apparently, I was also overpowered in the scuffle so it's a good thing Peterson called it in anyway."

Now it was Puck's turn to snort. "You get over powered? That's bullshit."

"Obviously!" She shot him a look.

"You going to tell chief the truth?"

"What's the point? It's my word against Greene and you know I'm already on probation there. After this whole business, he should be on a shorter leash so I won't have to deal with him."

"I can't believe you, Brittany Pierce, are going to just let it slide." Puck shook his head in disbelief. "It's definitely the right thing to do. You don't need any more problems."

The door to Macklin's office opened with a very somber looking Peterson and a stern, disapproving Greene following behind him. Mack pointed to the PI and Puckerman with two fingers which hooked. Without words, Brittany could practically hear the older man barking their names with his customary "Office" shouted. A shared groaned emitted from their lips as they stood up and walked towards Macklin's door. Derek paused to glare in their direction for a second. Britt stared back while Noah gave her a tiny push from behind.

"Sit." Macklin indicated to the chairs in front of his desk. They did so. His eyes moved from the report on his desk towards Brittany first. As if already expecting a fight, Macklin steeled himself. "Care to explain what happened last night?"

"Nothing." Britt responded with a big, overly fake smile.

"Puckerman." Mack growled knowing that Brittany wouldn't give him anything.

"Sorry, chief, I was off-duty on both accounts. You said I didn't need to watch her last night." He shrugged, but kicked Brittany's boots under their chairs.

"Nothing happened. Whatever Greene said was the truth." Brittany said every word through her clenched smile. She wanted to get out of this without losing her spot on the case. Greene caused problems for her at every turn.

"Whatever Greene said huh?" Macklin barked. "Are you telling me that I am supposed to believe the load of bullshit he just spat? Do you think I'm an idiot? What fucking game are you playing at?"

Puck fidgeted in his chair. Purple wasn't a good color on Macklin.

"No game. I just have nothing to say on the incident."

"So everything he said is true?"

"Oh come on, chief, you know he's a lying sack of shit-"

"Shut it, Puckerman. You have no say here and of course I know that." Macklin stared his detective down. But Brittany didn't move or change her answer. Displeased, he realized whatever the PI's game, he wasn't going to get anywhere with her. "Fine. Have it your way, Pierce, but I'm warning you now, if the funny shit starts happening between you and Greene again, I will throw your ass in jail."

The mention of "funny shit" caught Brittany's attention. Her bright blue eyes hardened as she quietly, but forcefully responded. "There will not be any funny business with Greene – there never will be again."

The tone in her voice cleared the air. Macklin nodded accepting the answer. "That's all, Pierce. You're dismissed. Puckerman, you stay. I have another assignment for you."

The blonde stood up, but shot the two a strange look. Macklin didn't split them up very often.

"Whatever."

She cringed even as she said the word – channeling classic high school Santana.

* * *

12 Days

After enduring taunt after taunt at the office about how Peterson had a crush on her coupled with the rumor that she let some overweight husband out run her, Brittany wanted to crash. She was too tired to even drink. The bed called to her. But before she pulled the covers and clothes over her head, Brittany walked into the kitchen to the calendar suspended over the trashcan. With the same red marker she had been using, she struck through and colored in another day. The bed felt so comforting. Somehow coloring in that stupid block made it easier to cope.

It was better this way.

* * *

Surprisingly, Santana had always enjoyed the anonymousness and bustle of the airport. It felt nice to be able to move through the crowded walkways and through the food stands, people sleeping, people running, children pulling their parents, and general chaos of the airport without having any of it effect her. It was comforting and relaxing. "No. No. Yes. No. Yes." Having this conversation in the middle of all this chaos was not comforting. In fact, it seemed redundant since she had already gone over all this information back in California.

"Tim." She swiveled her new and not-touched-by-a-serial-killer suitcase through another obstacle. He was calling her Captain again. He did that whenever he was trying to charm something from her. "Everything is in my flat. You have a key and you are there all the time, it'll be fine. Just make sure the plants don't die. Okay?"

The crowd was thinning out as she made her way towards where the cab said it would be waiting for her. The instructions had been to hold the sign and wait for the bombshell Latina to strut towards him. She figured that it wouldn't be hard for him to pick her out. The line of cabs waiting outside was long, but Santana spotted the make shift sign with her name on easily: Ms. Lopez, hottie.

She smirked. The cabbie had some spunk. Easily, she picked her way towards him. "Tim, I see my driver. I'm going to my hotel and everything will be fine. I will. Don't worry. I'll text Terry after this to say I arrived safely. Yeah, I hear you. Please don't sign anything without asking me first, Tim! I don't care if Terr says it's a good deal. I'm yours, not Terry."

Right as she hung up the phone, she noticed movement around her cab driver. A group of plain dressed men and a few airport security took the sign with her name out of his hand. They unceremoniously dismissed him with the flash of a few badges and rough pushes. Santana frowned. A tall, shaved head emerged from behind a particularly large body guard. The man flashed her a cocky smile.

"Puckerman." She said his name like it contained venom, but her dark eyes sparkled. It had only been about two weeks, but it felt like forever since she had seen him. Even though she felt relieved to see her old friend, she couldn't fight the feeling of unease as she sensed another two or three men close into her from behind. "What's with the fanfare? I know I'm hot, but I don't think I require half the department as a welcome back party."

"Hoe-pez! Stop snarking and come here for a second." Puck opened his arms for a hug.

"A hug here? Now?" Santana looked around at the body guards and the passing people who watched the escort with wary eyes.

"Shut up and come here." Puck repeated before he pulled her into a giant hug. The suitcase handle dropped from her hands as she wrapped her arms around his neck. They had been close after high school. Being a single child and without the best relationship with her parents, Noah became something of her brother. After she left New York without a good-bye, Santana had expected him to treat her with distain. If their roles would have been reversed, she would have ignored him and it would have taken years of groveling for her to accept him again. But here he was hugging her.

"I still don't like the goon squad following me around." She whispered into his ear.

"Chief's orders. He wants you at one of our hotel rooms where you'll be safe and monitored at all times." Noah pulled back. "Sorry, Tan. I know it sucks."

"Whatever."

Puck softly smiled as he was reminded of how Brittany had said that exact word only a day earlier. Before he could make the grab for the handle of her suitcase, Santana reached for it gracefully to pull it close to her body. Without saying a word, she dared him to try that chivalrous shit he had done in the precinct when he had taken her suitcase before shipping her off into a plane for Cali. She might be wearing a skirt, but she'd cut a bitch before she let Puckerman manhandle her stuff again. "Get your flunkies and let's go. Definitely not my favorite way to come back here."

Despite her attitude and the way she flipped her hair aggressively with a cocked eye brow at his nearest "flunky," Puck knew she wasn't mad at him.

Santana followed the two guys in front of her as they cleared a pathway through the crowd towards the street. No matter the face she put on, Santana hadn't been prepared for the shock of returning to New York. It wasn't the city or Puckerman or even the thought of seeing a certain blonde PI that had her heart racing. No, the Latina had completely forgotten why she had felt so relieved to escape the city of New York only thirteen days ago. It had felt like a lifetime in California, but here, surrounded on all sides by a personal escort? The danger and reality of the situation had returned to the foreground and into immediacy.

Target.

She wore a target on her back and someone, somewhere in this impossibly large city, was aiming for her.

As they started walking down the street, Santana shook her head to clear away the shivers going up and down her back. "How much trouble you've been into since I've been gone?" Her thoughts were already on that blonde and how much trouble she could have been into. Secretly, she had hoped Britt would have been the one to greet her at the airport. There had been a thousand times Santana debated if she should text Brittany to tell her when she was returning, but to remain professional, she had opted to contact Macklin instead.

"We've been very good mami." He said with a fake accent.

"Ass." She rolled up her fist and gave him a pretty hard jab in the ribs. Then another one. The two guards stopped in front of unmarked black police car that screamed escort. Santana frowned. She had always hated being babysat and this was no exception. A hard rock sunk to the pit of her stomach. This was for real. Maybe coming back had been a bad idea. It's not like she would be much use here.

"Ready?"

"Not really." But she sighed and pushed the handles down on her suitcase. Lights flickered on them in Santana's periphery as she began to load the suitcase so she paused. The suits around her closed in. Frowning, she pushed back against the hands now trying to push her head into the backseat of their car. The vehicle that flashed its lights at them slowed to the curb in front of them. The muffler in the back puffed awkwardly and emitted more smokes than it should and the engine sounded like it had seen better days. A small smile pulled at her lips as she recognized the car – Ronny, the department's crap car. The car they had given to Britt and Santana to use.

Unconsciously, Santana's body clenched in anticipation as she realized who was driving the car.

Brittany.

She didn't notice the way she bit her bottom lip or how dry her mouth suddenly became. Her dark eyes were hooded and locked onto the driver side just waiting. The hand not on the handle of the suitcase moved towards her designer bag where the pieces of a certain hat had been fingered and touched for the better part of the last two weeks.

The first thing to exit the beat up car was yellow, hideous, and poorly made with strands of beautiful golden hair peaking through the knitting at odd places. Yet when Brittany turned around with that cocky expression on her face and those bright blue eyes catching the lights from the street, Santana's heart stopped. She completely forgot about the guards around her and even Noah standing there with an incredulous face.

"Hey." Brittany's voice easily breached the gap between them and managed to be soft and intimate, but load enough to be the only thing Santana could hear.

"Hey." Santana said back somehow out of breath. Why was she acting like an idiot?

"Can I offer you a lift?" The blonde asked. She was wearing the only outfit Santana had been able to envision her in for the past two weeks – those black slacks which hugged her ass so tight, the white button down shirt, and a thin blue tie which hung loosely around her neck as if she had forgotten to tighten it. Her arms crossed lazily over the top of Ronny. And her eyes? Jesus, her eyes were only trained on Santana's. Santana doubted if Brittany had even noticed her armed and sizeable escort.

"Yes." Again, Santana was amazed how raspy her voice was at the moment. She hadn't been doing anything strenuous, but her heart was beating so abnormally. All her anxiety about returning to the city had evaporated leaving only the certainty of those cerulean eyes. Unconsciously, Santana hiked up her suitcase once more and took steps towards the passenger side of Brittany's car. She had only made it three steps when the rest of the world came crashing back.

"Where are you going?" Puck stepped in front of Santana. His body broke Santana's line of sight to Britt's eyes. Yet their connection seemed just as strong. Despite Noah's body in the way, Santana knew Brittany's eyes were still looking straight into her through him. "You can't just take her. Chief's orders."

"I only offered her a ride. And she accepted. If you want to follow us, I see no problem in that. Besides, we're just going to her hotel room, right?"

"Well-yes-but-" Puck stuttered. "How do you know all that?"

"Chin up, Puckers. I listen to your channels all the time. You know that. I figured Macks kicked me out of his office because of Santana stuff. Guess it paid off. I am a PI after all. Still got my skills, my license and now-" Her eyes flickered to the brunette who pushed passed his impeding body to muscle her way to the passenger side of Ronny. "-I have my partner."

Santana paused right before sliding into the seat at Britt's words. Despite herself, she couldn't help it as she smiled.

"Britt…" Puck groaned, but Santana slammed the door in his face before he could say another word. She did, however, blow him a kiss right before the car sped off. "Shit…"

He ran to his car with the guard jumping in after. The driver hit the gas and flicked the lights on to follow behind Brittany and Santana.

* * *

They didn't talk in the car. They didn't need to. Santana attempted with no luck to suppress the irrepressible smile on her face. She thanked God for the dark streets because she felt like she must look like a fool. Occasionally the bright flashing lights and sirens from Puck's car could be heard gaining on them, but Brittany never blinked an eye as she sped around another turn. Santana glanced to her left once. Her heart hadn't stopped hammering yet.

The hotel definitely lacked the same charm and class as the last one, but she noticed two men watching her closely as she talked to the receptionist to receive her card key. Brittany waited patiently by the elevator to the right. They stepped into the door right as Noah walked into the lobby. He rolled his eyes as they both gave him a little wave right as the door closed. Too late now, Puckerman gave some last minute instructions to his men before he left. He had a date with Jocelyn. If he waited to talk to Santana now, he'd be waiting forever.

They stepped out on the nineteenth floor and walked down to Santana's room. Santana could feel Brittany leaning against the wall to her right and while she had to concentrate on sliding the card into the slot; she knew Brittany was just looking at her. It shouldn't have been that hard, but Santana suppressed a moan of frustration as she kept missing the slot. Slender fingers moved over her hand and Brittany casually took the card from her. Without looking down, Brittany easily slid it in. Why did she feel so nervous around Brittany? Santana could practically feel the hard plastic rub the interior sensor of the mechanized lock and Britt's fingers controlling the speed of the card. Then with the slightest flick of the wrist, the card came back out. Brittany confidently pressed it into the palm of her hand before turning the door handle.

The hotel room was again comparable to the one she had stayed in last time except the overall quality had been turned down.

Brittany's eyes flicked down the hallway where two guards stood already setting watch. At least she would be safe here. Santana would have a hard time getting anywhere without an escort. Figures they would both have to be babysat eventually – they had never been good at being good especially when they were together. The brunette crossed the threshold of the room and placed her suitcase on the bed already dreading the time she would spend cooped up in the four walls of an unfamiliar place. She turned back to the door. Brittany was doing that cocky lean thing against the frame. For some reason, Santana couldn't help but to smile as she realized Brittany pulled off the badass look with that stupid yellow beanie.

"Coming in?"

Brittany's heart skipped at the invitation, but she wanted to do this thing right. "No."

The entire time she had spent with the blonde since the airport, Santana had been floating, but the flat out rejection crashed her hard back to reality. "Oh."

"I know you've got to unpack and settle, but…" Brittany's body lost some aggressively confident positioning as she pushed back some fallen strands of hair from her face. "I was wondering if you wanted to come over to my place tomorrow night."

Santana's mouth opened, but no words came out. She remembered the last time she had been there. In the morning, after their huge fight in the club, Brittany didn't even know she had been the one to crash there. "I-"

Brittany cut Santana off before she could say no. "Look-um-I have that box of your stuff that you wanted. So I thought we could, you know go over it together. I haven't touched it, but there might be something in there for the case."

"So the partner thing?" Santana asked with a hesitant smile.

"Will be official after tomorrow night?"

"One favor for _full_ partnership, including my box."

"Do I have to say deal a second time?" Brittany asked with a smirk. Santana shook her head with the same smile. "So I'll see you around eight?"

"Eight."

"Good." Brittany turned to walk out the door, but paused. "It's nice to have you back."

"I said I'd be back, B."

"I know. It's just…nice."

* * *

Brittany entered her apartment with a new attitude and a kick in her step. Her mind preoccupied by thoughts of a certain brunette she had just left and their impending "partnership". She knew exactly what she wanted to do. Confidence in every step, Brittany practically marched into her kitchen and strode up to the calendar hanging on the wall. The days and moments she spent anxiously waiting for Santana's return were marked in that glaring red marker. They were days she spent in a purgatory of unknowing – the worst kind. She reached into a drawer in the kitchen and pulled out a blue Crayola marker.

Shaking, but with a smile she didn't know had formed on her lips, Brittany circled the date with a show of finality. She felt as if something epic should happen. The world should tremble or at least a grand song to mark the occasion should have started to play like it used to all the time back in high school. Nothing happened.

And while Brittany felt happy, it was still a remnant emotion from seeing Santana. Something still wasn't right. She frowned at the Scooby-Doo calendar with all its red marks and the new blue circle.

Her eyes focused hard on the calendar as if it would reveal its secrets. When nothing came, Brittany's frown deepened. As a reaction, she ripped the calendar from the wall and the tack holding it up. It clattered to the tiled floor. While the calendar fell into the trashcan below it. Suddenly a great sense of relief washed over her.

Oh right! A devilish smirk appeared on her face.

Brittany S. Pierce didn't do calendars. Much better.

* * *

**So I had a lot of new alerts and reviews from last chapter! Loved hearing from you guys! Like I said, this is going to be the next part of the story with a major arc and I know some of you have been clamoring for Brittana interaction ::cough:: kiss ::cough:: but as you can see the Brittana is amping up again. Soooo ;)**

**On another note, I am thinking about writing a one shot so I can write SOME sexytimes since it's been forever so be on the lookout for another playtime installment. This time with Santana at the helm. Now that my semester is practically over with only one paper and one exam left, I feel confident that I shall be devoting more time to writing! :D Thanks for being so patient especially after the rather abrupt insertion of the last chapter. **

**Thanks again for all the reviews and comments, they mean a lot! Have a lovely week and good luck with finals or whatever you have coming up!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Thanks for all the patience and the messages about updating! Your reviews have been just awesome. I hope this chapter fulfills some of the promises of Brittana I've been talking about. **

**And again the responses are overwhelming! **

**Next in…**

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 17**

Brittany S. Pierce didn't do calendars. Much better.

After the calendar settled into the trashcan, everything felt better. Strange how the smallest things changed everything. She had wanted to continue living as she had been. The past few years hadn't been easy, but she had made a living somehow. Albeit, one full of alcohol, random hook-ups, and the inability to sincerely move forward with her life. Yet, here she was elated over the idea of Santana coming to her apartment. Satisfied, Brittany turned around. But she wasn't prepared for the sight waiting behind her turned back.

Fuck.

Not good. Not good at all. Her hand flashed across her body.

* * *

"A pool boy, huh? You must think I'm gullible, detective, if you think I'm falling for that answer." Jocelyn giggled over her glass of wine. Her dark eyes ran along Noah's chiseled jaw the same way her fingers ran along the rim of the glass. "Although, I can definitely see you walking around in tiny little Speedos eye-sexing all those poor house mothers with nothing to do. I don't have a pool, but I can think a few ways to put you to use around my house."

"Plumbing issues?" Noah laughed with her, but his jovial mood was cut off by his personal phone going off. Only three people ever really contacted him with that thing: Quinn, Shelby, or Britt. Considering Jocelyn was about as personal as his life was at the moment, fear instantly gripped the detective. Frantically he dug into his pocket. When his personal phone buzzed without warning, it was always an emergency. Always. Brittany's name flashed up with a text message. He opened it.

_Help! Now!_

Puck almost jumped out of his seat. In fact, his body did a small jerk as he tried to get up. He looked up and saw concern in Jocelyn's face. The reporter expressed genuine worry. "Are you okay?"

"No. I-it's my friend. I think she could be in trouble." Puck said quickly as he opened his wallet and threw more money on the table than their meal would ever actually cost. "I have to go now. I'm so sorry, Jocelyn. Maybe we could pick this up some other time?"

"Yeah, sure." She said as he darted away from their table in the back intimate part of the restaurant. "Be careful…"

But she doubted the detective heard her words of warning, Puck's jacket flapped in the air as he sprinted around servers, fellow diners, and the staff. Jocelyn's eyes glanced to her glass of wine with a sigh. The life of public servant was demanding and stressful. For a moment, she contemplated if he was worth the stress of actually creating a relationship. But as she bottomed out the glass, Jocelyn shook off the thought. It had been a long time since had a relationship with a nice guy and Noah was without a doubt, a nice guy.

* * *

God, she was so stupid. Getting worked up over Brittany inviting her over? It's wasn't that big of a deal and yet, she felt a thousand different emotions as she hung up her clothes and put away her things. Any other time, the brunette would have waited to unpack and sort her clothes because of the toll created by jet lag. Sure she was exhausted, but a manic energy flowed through her body. Santana had a feeling it had something to do with the blonde who had stood so boldly at her door only an hour ago. For once, Santana didn't even bother to ignore the urge to glance towards the doorway. Part of her expected Brittany to still be standing there, mulling her over with those beautiful blue eyes. Because Brittany's presence would be the only thing to explain why Santana still felt like she was blushing.

Her phone started to buzz. Thinking it might be Brittany, Santana answered immediately without pausing to check the ID.

"B?"

"Close, but no." A man's voice answered instead.

Trying to keep the disappointment from her voice, Santana responded appropriately. "Tim. What's up?"

If he noticed the drop in her voice, he was kind enough to ignore it. "Just wanted to know how everything was."

"It's good. Why are you calling again? Something wrong? Did you sign something without me? It's only been like two hours since we last talked. I know Terr couldn't have hooked into you that quickly!"

"No. No, nothing like that…" He hesitated and Santana felt her stomach start to turn. Something in his voice sounded off.

Tim wasn't usually like this. The younger man had a way of always sounding enthusiastic about anything – even the one time Santana had persuaded him into cleaning up a mess from a backed up septic tank at a client's house. He had been whistling when she arrived and even tried to hug her. Santana remembered with a soft smile the way she literally had to swat him away with a stick to stop the incoming embrace. In a way, Tim reminded Santana of the Brittany she had fallen in love with so many years ago. "What's wrong?"

"It could be nothing and I'm probably just a little paranoid. It's just weird, you know?"

"No, I don't know." Santana's teeth were grinding. "What's weird? Talk to me."

"I was just - checking up on your flat because you said to make sure your plants didn't die or you'd kill me and stuff. I also took your mailbox key to pick up your mail."

"And what? I won something? My fan mail to Ellen was finally answered? Bills? Because I know I have those coming in. Terry will take care of all that so just water the plants and make it look like someone is living. Come on, spit it out."

"There's a postcard in here from New York."

That sick feeling she had when she left the airport returned immediately. Her right hand crept down her body to her stomach as if the source of her sickness came from within. "Who's it from?"

Tim sensed Santana's fear through the phone line. He hated that he could feel the way Santana's body froze thousands of miles away. Santana had never been one to be afraid of anything. It was painful to think of her as frightened. "It doesn't have a return address. It just says: _New York Misses You._ And it's typed out, which is weird since most people write on postcards."

Santana attempted to keep her voice even and calm. "Is there anything else? A name? A picture? Something?"

"No name or signature or anything else. It's just a picture of the city skyline."

"Just um-just put it in a plastic baggie. Try not to touch it too much and mail it to me at my hotel. I'll text you the address." Santana's hand trembled at the thought of another message, but this one directed to her in California. What the fuck?

"I'm sorry, Capt." Tim said after an uncomfortable silence. He hated the way Santana's voice seemed so small in the face of this unknown danger.

Jarred from her thoughts, Santana asked. "Why?"

"I just want this to be over. I don't like any of this. I want you to be safe again. I just want it to be the way it used to be. So you and Boss-Lady can, you know, get together again."

It had been awhile since he had even brought up the subject of Brittany. And an even longer time since Tim had called her by her code name. That had been so long ago and they had all been so young, but he insisted on calling Santana the Captain and Brittany was the B-Lady.

"Tim…" Santana said softly as if cooing a small child. "So much has changed. She's not the same person and neither am I. It's never going to be the way it was…" She wanted to change the subject. Talking to Tim about Britt was the last thing she wanted to do especially after discovering the killer could be stalking her all the way on the west coast. "Just make sure you seal that postcard tight, okay?"

Perhaps he wanted to say something more, but he restrained.

"Sure thing, Captain. I'll make sure it gets to you as soon as possible and in mint condition. Hopefully the guys in the lab coats can get something off this." Tim didn't even ask Santana how she knew the postcard had malicious intent. He didn't need to. When he saw the New York skyline in the pile of mail, Tim had felt the evil coming from it. The postcard had been sent with dark intent. He felt sick at the thought of someone targeting Santana and even sicker for bringing up the subject of Brittany. For the past few years, he had been cautious about addressing the subject of the blonde. Perhaps he had been insensitive to bring up the B-Lady now; especially because Santana was working so closely with Britt. "I'm sorry, Capt, I didn't mean to bring it up. I didn't mean to bring her up."

"Forget about it, Tim. Not a big deal." Her feelings and past with Brittany would have to wait. FBI in the morning and now this postcard to deal with. Why couldn't the world let her relax? All those feelings connected to Brittany had dissipated to anxiety and worry.

How had this killer known where she lived in California? Why send her the postcard to return? She felt like she was an idiot for walking into a trap as big as New York. Who knew when she'd set it off?

* * *

The sirens and lights on Puck's cruiser were flashing at the speed of his heart. He flew through red lights and stop signs. How could Brittany have gotten into trouble this early? He had seen her only a few hours ago at Santana's place. The car jostled as it hit cement. The detective drove up the curb as he practically parked inside Brittany's apartment building. The plastic around the detective's license plate bumped against the glass of the door before easing back a fraction.

In Shittown, people tended to notice a cop car's sirens and lights. Puck began pounding on the apartment building's door and buzzing numbers. Eventually an older woman showed up to let him in.

"Can I help you?" She asked brazenly holding a phone out with 9-1-1 already dialed. "I'll call the cops."

"I am the cops!" Puck answered harshly as he mounted the stairs three at a time. Realizing that he sounded abrasive, he shouted down. "Thank you for the assistance, ma'am."

"Fucking cops." Puck heard her shout back to him, but he was already up two flights of stairs. Why couldn't she stay out of trouble? What if Santana coming back and Britt's involvement had somehow shown the Strangler where the PI lived? Sweating, Puckerman mounted the stairs to her floor. Years on the force and his own survival instincts took control. He burst through the stairwell door with his gun already drawn and his dark eyes flashing. There were noises coming from various closed doors, but none that indicated any sort of struggle or cause for alarm. He stopped in front of Brittany's apartment.

Here, he heard nothing. The detective frowned and raised his gun deciding if he should call for back up. But he was already here and Britt could be in more trouble than even she could handle. He couldn't chance waiting for backup now. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for what could be waiting inside. With one swift and decisive kick, Puck bust Brittany's door open. The wood easily gave way as it hadn't been locked. Normally that would be a sign of entry, but Puck knew Brittany rarely locked her door. The barrel of his gun pointed outwards as he covered himself.

No noise. Nothing.

The only lights on were towards Britt's living room. He quickly cleared the foyer and made sure there were no surprises. The gun in his hand never trembled nor tilted, but surgically aimed around corners and towards dark spaces where an assailant could be hiding. He cleared the foyer and pressed against the wall leading into the kitchen. The light was pretty bright here, but he still hadn't seen Britt anywhere. It was difficult to tell if a struggle had occurred with all the mess around. Peeking around the corner, his heart stopped.

Britt was sprawled face down on the tile floor. Her blonde hair pooled around and some sort of liquid coated the floor in a bright sheen.

"Shit! Britt! Britt!" Puck jumped from his cover and knelt next to her body. One hand still held the gun up while the other touched his friend's shoulder. He had never been one for praying, but he offered the few prayers he had learned that week at Jewish school to God. "Get up. Come on!"

The body beneath his hands suddenly jumped to life. Brittany's hair whipped up into his face and she was scowling at him. "What, Puck? It took you fucking long enough. And why do you have your gun out?"

Puck uneasily lowered his firearm, still unsure if there was danger about. Brittany's tone of voice indicated that he should feel like he was an moron for being concerned. He still asked. "Are you okay?"

"No, you idiot! I'm not okay!" Brittany threw him another look. "And why do you still have that gun out? Put that away and pass me that bucket! There are some gloves for you somewhere. If you can't find them, you're just going to have to use your hands."

"What are you talking about?" Sensing there really was no immediate danger, Puck finally tucked his handgun back into it holster – safety on.

"No time to explain! I need you to put those gloves on and start helping me clean!" Brittany squeezed some very dirty water out of a bucket and slopped it onto the tile floor.

"Clean?" Noah didn't know how to respond. He raced all the way over here thinking someone had attacked his best friend and he finds Brittany elbow deep in cleaning solution. Only a moment ago, he had been convinced she was dead. "Are you kidding me? Unless you need help cleaning up a dead body, I am getting the fuck out of here. Clean? You haven't cleaned anything in the past four years and now you call me over with an SOS to clean your fucking apartment!?"

Brittany looked up cringing. "Maybe?"

"Gah!" Puck threw his hands in the air and stood up from the floor. In anger, he kicked the yellow rubber gloves Britt had pulled out for him.

"Where are you going? I need your help!" Brittany called up and dropped the rag to the ground. "Please don't leave! Seriously! I need help!"

"Oh! I know you need help and trust me, right now, you don't want the type of help I'm willing to offer." Puck continued to kick things as he made his way back toward the apartment front door. He muttered. "Can't believe I skipped out on Jocelyn for your mess – again! I'm always dropping my shit for you, Pierce."

"No! Noah! Please! It's serious! I swear! I invited Santana over tomorrow night and I wasn't thinking because you know…its Santana. And I can't let her see this…" Brittany's hands hung down around her as if she was finally admitting nothing had been okay since she had driven Santana away four years ago.

Maybe it was the plea in Britt's voice or the fact that he had never been able to refuse his friends anything, but Puck stopped. His fingers twitched as he weighed his decision. It didn't help that he had just stood Jocelyn up at dinner and that Brittany had used emergency language as a way to get him to come over. But it was the sincere request for help that really got him. It had been forever since Brittany admitted she needed help with anything. Why did he have to be such a push over? He sighed and his shoulders sagged.

"She's really coming over? Why?"

"I said we could be partners again…" Brittany trailed off.

He rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Shit, Britt." Knowing how sensitive the subject was, Puck refrained from asking his friend if she was ready for that. Brittany's hands were covered in rubber gloves and her hair was all disheveled probably from throwing pieces of clothes and garbage from one side of her apartment to the other. Clearly, she was attempting to make a change of some sort. Whether it was good or bad would have to be determined later, but this was the best attempt Puck had witnessed in the past four years. And sometimes people just needed a helping hand to get started. "Fine. Hand me the gloves, but I'm going to call Jocelyn first to apologize for standing her up…because of you."

He added to stress that it was her fault, but the blonde was already shoving the gloves into his hands with a great big smile. "Eh, you'll get over her soon anyway."

"Hey, Jocelyn. Yeah, it's me. I'm sorry about dinner. No, everything's okay. It was…" He glanced towards Brittany who was attempting, but failing, at a look of innocence. "A false alarm. Nothing as serious as I thought. I'm really sorry and I would gladly go back and meet you at the restaurant. But even though it wasn't an emergency, my friend still needs me."

"No, we'll be fine. It's just a little personal crisis."

"It's not the lawyer friend." He glanced to Brittany as if she could hear the other side of his conversation. "Yes, it's my PI friend."

"Yes…the blonde…" Now he was glaring at Britt as if she had done something wrong. Perhaps it was the appropriate expression as the blonde PI had an evil smirk on her face. She liked it when Puck's girls remembered her. It made him all anxious that they would get curious with a sexually fluid and banging hot chick. "No, it's really not that necessary. It's her ex-girlfriend and all this shit. It's complicated. Pretty much I'm cleaning up her apartment so she doesn't look like she's been living on a diet of DOTS and whiskey."

Britt shrugged and started to kick away some old boxes of the aforementioned candy towards the trashcan.

"No-" Puck forcefully laughed into the phone. "That was not sarcasm." "No, seriously, you don't have to help or come over. It's fine."

The blonde's head snapped up. Violently she shook her head back and forth issuing the abort signal to Puckerman. He mouthed back "sorry".

"Yeah, I'll text you the address."

Before Puckerman could even hang up his phone properly, Brittany threw the rag at him. The wet and very nasty material landed against the side of his face.

"You did not just invite your slam piece over to my apartment!" She growled.

"She's not a slam piece, I'm dating her!" Puck yelled back. "Besides this is all your fault anyway. If you would keep your shit together, we wouldn't have to be here."

"My shit is together!" Brittany yelled, purposely avoiding all the clutter around her.

"Even if your shit was together…" Noah made dramatic quotation marks in the air to stress the fact that Britt was anything, but together. "And it's not. Jocelyn coming over is your fault because you fucked our date up."

"Still not cool…"

"No, you're the not cool one."

"I've always been cool."

"Whatever."

"Whatever."

They both said at the same time glaring.

* * *

"Tell her to stop touching my books." Brittany muttered underneath her breath.

"You can tell her yourself." Puck bit back. They were in the kitchen together and could see the brunette reporter tentatively rearranging what would have originally been a bookshelf, but the accumulation of clothes and other miscellaneous things had turned it into something else. Brittany knew some notes and case things were on that shelf. Wary the reporter was using Noah to get close to her, Brittany didn't want to trust the tall thin woman. She shot Puckerman another glare as she scrubbed the tile floors harder.

Sighing, Puck licked his top lip. "Hey, Joce, you think you could help me gather up all this laundry into bags?"

"Sure. But why bags?" She instantly popped up from alphabetizing the books.

"Because we don't have enough hampers for the amount of clothing Britt needs washed."

Brittany's eyes followed the reporter's backside intently, but it had nothing to do with admiring her nice posterior. She hadn't said one word to Jocelyn yet. Puck wanted to believe it was Britt turning over yet another new leaf, but he had a feeling it had to do with her mistrust of outsiders.

Puck had somehow gathered most of the alcohol bottles into trash bags at the front door while Brittany had been working on clearing out the contents of the fridge. The sink had to be scrubbed four times and most of her dishes had been thrown directly into the trash without even trying to be recovered. Some things weren't even worth attempting to clean. As of now, it had been an hour since Jocelyn had shown up and Brittany was putting the final touches on the kitchen. She wanted it to sparkle.

"You've got a lot of clothes here. I love your style." Jocelyn attempted some light conversation.

"Not all of it's mine." Britt curtly replied. "Throw out anything that looks like I'd never wear it or send it to Good Will."

"So your ex…" Jocelyn started to say, but was cut off by a warning look from Noah across the room. But she didn't stop. "…why are you trying so hard to make your apartment clean?"

"Why are you dating Puckerman?"

"Because it's been awhile since I've met a nice guy."

"So dating him this has nothing to do with the Strangler case? Because I think you're using him to get information." Brittany asked poignantly as she threw the sponge into the bucket.

"Hey! Pierce!" Puck yelled. He gave her the 'not cool' look.

"Well it started that way. I met him at a crime scene."

"Figures." Brittany rolled her eyes as if Jocelyn had just confirmed all the bad things Brittany already thought of her.

"It was at the crime scene that I realized he was different." Puck felt increasingly uncomfortable standing here during their conversation. "Normally, cops just blow us reporters off at a crime scene. Which…he did, but it wasn't because he couldn't be bothered with us. I realized it was because he was too concerned with his friend. My camera man was the one who pointed out that you were all connected. I was intrigued…Then when I saw him again at the press release, I wanted to take a chance."

Scoffing, Brittany backed away from the kitchen rolling her eyes. "So you figured out that Puckerman's a softy."

Puck took the bucket of soapy water from Brittany and refilled it in the bathroom sink, but didn't miss out on the chance to glare at the PI.

"Not exactly like that, but I figured out he's a good guy." They held each other's gaze for awhile without saying anything. Puck tugged at the collar of his button-up. After a few moments, Jocelyn smiled. "You still didn't answer my question about this ex of yours."

"The lawyer…"

"Ah. I see why you're going through all the effort then."

Chagrined, Britt didn't enjoy a stranger telling her what she should and shouldn't be feeling. For Puck's sake, she kept her comments to herself. Besides, this chick wasn't the worst thing Puckerman had brought around. Jocelyn held up a pair of boxers in her left hand and a thong in the other. "I don't even have to ask you which one is yours right?"

The reporter began to throw the boxers directly into the trash bag. Looking to gain the upper hand once again, Brittany smirked. "Neither."

The reporter shot Brittany an inquisitive look. "So both of them go in the trash?"

"Well they aren't mine. You could always donate them to Puck's Lost and Found."

"Your what?" Her brow quirked at the man who was half in and out of the bathroom trying to clean that mess up.

Panicked, Puck sprung from the bathroom floor attempting to smile at Jocelyn and lunge towards Brittany at the same time. "Nothing!"

"You know where he keeps all his 'over-night' guests' forgotten- Uufh!" Brittany didn't get to complete her sentence as the wind was knocked out of her. Puck's hands wrapped around her mouth to stop her from talking. Their bodies crashed onto the floor creating a semi-earthquake of clothes and objects Jocelyn had been collecting.

"You didn't hear that! And she's joking!" Noah yelled as he grabbed a man's shirt and stuffed it over Britt's head. The blonde didn't give up without a fight. Taking hold of an old lamp shade, she whacked at Puck's ribs with the cone shaped object. "I don't have one of those!" They rolled around for a few more minutes. "Yes, you do!" Unsure who she should help or even if she should even draw attention to herself, Jocelyn inched backwards away from the wrestling friends. It seemed foolish in hindsight that she had ever felt threatened by Noah's relationship with the P.I. "I don't even know what she's talking about!" They were like siblings. "Then why are you denying it?" Cautiously, she continued to stuff clothes into the bag while the guy she was dating was being pinned to the ground by a woman three times smaller than himself. Perhaps she would have been embarrassed, but there was something endearing watching him get pounced by the blonde.

* * *

"You smell like lemons." Brittany scrunched her nose up as Noah approached.

"And you smell like old clothes." Puck passed her a cup of coffee with four packs of sugar and milk already mixed in.

"I found them under the bed this morning since you took all my clothes away to the cleaners." The coffee tasted so good. The PI wore some old grey baggy sweat pants and a McKinley High School Girls Volleyball t-shirt. Puck stared at it for a moment wondering how she had acquired one of those since he knew Britt never played. The beat up yellow beanie seemed like it never came off. Puck was beginning to think the yellow knitted head covering was worse than the lady killer hat.

"I only smell like lemons because I didn't get a chance to shower after spending hours and hours cleaning _your _apartment. Good thing we were using cleaning products so no one really knows."

The door to Interrogation Room 1 opened. Brittany forgot everything they had been talking about as she sat up straight to get a better view. First the old FBI woman walked with aggression. A short, beautiful brunette matched her pace with no problem. Those dark almond eyes flashed up and focused immediately on Brittany from across the entire department as if Santana knew instinctively where the blonde would be waiting for her. For that half a second, Britt knew Santana was smiling at her even though her lush lips were drawn in a straight line. That had been the Latina's fourth meeting of the day and it definitely wouldn't be her last.

Right as Brittany attempted to make a move from Puck's desk towards the lawyer, she was ushered into another room. Exasperated, Brittany sighed and hopped back up onto Puckerman's desk. "Fuck."

"It's cool, Britt. Everything's going to be okay." Puck tried to console, but it did little to comfort her.

"You keep saying that, Puck, but when is it going to be okay? I want a timeline. I need something cause this-" Her eyes flashed to the door Santana had been lead into. "-is driving me insane."

* * *

"Can you name these women?" Agnes, the older of the FBI profilers asked Santana.

"Yes." She responded without any hesitation.

"Because of your involvement with the case four years ago?"

"Yes and no." Santana sighed and pointed to the picture of Rachel. "I was friends with Rachel Berry in high school and those two girls are the newest victims therefore they may or may not be connected with the case from four years ago, but I still know who they are because of the investigation."

"You don't recognize them in any other way? And you don't know how they are connected to your friend Rachel Berry at all?"

"No." It was becoming tiring. "I have no idea why I keep getting these messages or what they even mean. The only relationship I've had with these other women has been after their deaths."

"How many people did you come in contact with over the past two weeks in California?"

"Countless. Narrowed on a personal interaction – my boss Terry, my secretary, the security guards, a few of the staff, my clients, and Tim. I already provided their information in the previous interview."

"Anyone stand out or act suspiciously?"

"No."

"Anyone in your past want to harm you in any way?"

"Sure. But none that would be capable of this or be connected to the murders taking place here."

"Could you give me names?" Agnes asked, not taking the easy way out.

With another sigh of annoyance, Santana flipped her fingers up to indicate for the pad. The old woman slid the yellow legal paper across the table. Rolling her eyes, Santana began to write down the names of enemies from high school all the way to the ones she made on the west. Occasionally, she would glance up to look into the older woman's eyes. "You know, we are wasting time doing this. I have no fucking clue that would possibly tell you why this little fucker is targeting me."

What seemed like an eternity of cyclical questions never getting to the point and never coming to a moment of epiphany, Agnes finally stood up and grabbed the legal pad from the table. "I think we can conclude here for now. I think it's time for some lunch before you are needed to map your movements during your time away from New York."

"What?" Santana was about to finish the sentence with a 'are you fucking kidding me', but refrained. Sighing, she stood up with the FBI profiler and walked behind her. The door opened before they could even exit the room.

"Sorry, but we got another call and a few people got pulled so we need to conduct the mapping right now." The tall male FBI counterpart said in the doorway.

"Do I have time to at least get a coffee?"

"Sorry, no time." The tall one said rather rudely.

A woman's hand poked around the frame of the door and held out a steaming cup of dark liquid. It sparkled only a few inches away. Santana pushed through the rather large man and took hold of the cup with eager fingers. The hand holding the cup didn't release right away. The moment forced the brunette to glance up.

"Hey. Hope you still take it the same way."

"Black. One sugar?" Santana smirked, already forgetting her previous agitation with interview process. Those blue eyes had an uncanny ability to find that special place of serenity inside of her. While the feel of Brittany's longer fingers beneath her own had a way of speeding her heart rate. She completely forgot Agnes and the tall one were standing there waiting for her back in the interview room.

"Yup. Happy to know I didn't forget." Blushing, Britt relinquished the cup, but she instantly regretted it. The tingling sensation remained where Santana's touch had been. "How's it going?"

"If I have to explain to them one more time that I don't know why I'm getting these messages, I might become a killer myself." Santana growled shifting her eyes towards the FBI behind her. A second later, she sighed contently at the taste of coffee. She elongated the pleasure of the taste in her words. "_Fuck_. I needed that." Her lashes bounced once then twice more as she met Britt's gaze again. The PI leaned against the wall with that ridiculous hat on her head and that cocky attitude. "Thanks, B."

"Miss Lopez, we're ready for you now."

"Hold it for a second, kay?" Santana shot back. "Thanks again."

"I know how you get when you don't have at least one cup of coffee." A small noise escaped her nose as if remembering a time when Santana had ripped someone a new asshole for looking at her before she had her coffee. "About tonight…"

The smile Brittany had conjured onto Santana's face faltered a little bit at the beginning of the sentence. "You're not cancelling are you?"

Santana's reaction was all Britt needed to know she actually wanted to come over. A weight lifted from her chest. "No, I just wanted to make sure we were still on. I mean, I wanted to give you an opportunity to say no…"

"Miss Lopez…"

"I'm coming!" Santana didn't even bother to look behind. Her eyes were locked onto Brittany's. Her voice dropped into total sincerity. "I'm looking forward to it. Eight, right?"

Britt bit her bottom lip and nodded to confirm. Santana began to move away, but the blonde caught hold of Santana's hand. "Wait. I forgot to give you breakfast and I guess now it's going to be your lunch."

Santana grasped onto the napkin pressed into her palm. "Thanks?"

"It's just a chocolate donut. I had to fist fight one of those bitches-" She pointed to the cops moving around behind her. "-for it. So it should taste amazing."

"Just about anything would taste amazing." Her heart stopped as the words came out and the way Brittany quirked her eye brow at her. Santana was saved from blushing as she felt Agnes touch her shoulder lightly. Rolling her eyes harder than she had all morning, Santana gave Brittany a 'sorry' smile. "I'm coming. Right now. Don't you worry."

The brunette turned around with a spin on her heels and took a delicious bite into the donut followed by another swig of coffee.

A few more times Santana was able to catch glances of Brittany around the office. Towards the end of the day, the FBI finally released her. Expecting Brittany at Puck's desk, Santana told herself it wasn't disappointment she felt when she didn't see the blonde waiting for her. The only one waiting at the end of the day was Puckerman and her security detail.

"Noah."

"Tana."

"Lead me away." Santana rolled her eyes, sick of the bullshit. She had enough.

But Puck pulled at her hand and led her to a corner of the office where no one could hear them. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for you to take me back to my hotel room, I have somewhere to be tonight."

"I know you do! That's why I'm asking. What are you doing with Brittany?"

"Doing with Brittany? Nothing! I'm not doing anything. She wanted me to come over to give me back my case notes as a truce or whatever." Santana ran a hand through her dark hair. "You know, be partners again."

"Yeah! That's what I'm talking about! Britt said the same thing! Partners again! I know exactly what that means – all that fucking lesbian code for shacking up and _partnering up_. I've partnered up with quite a few people – and by people I mean girls because I don't know what the gay saying is – not that I've done that. But it's like she's nesting or un-nesting, I don't know what women do! Everything was a mess and now it's not, at least on the surface it's all shiny. And then it's going to be Boom!"

"Puck…" Santana's voice should have been a warning that she didn't want to be fucked with at the moment.

But he continued to plow on. "I know you two are partnering up and as much as I love you two together, when you two are apart it's like the end of the world and nothing's okay and I'm the one who has to pick up all the pieces. I hope you know what you're doing, Tan, because I think you're playing with some serious fire."

And that was the final straw. "First, I know exactly what I'm doing, Puck. And you need to keep yourself out of it. Second, what the fuck is 'partnering up?' The only thing going on tonight is an exchange of a box, a box which contains information about the case Brittany and I are working on together _as partners_. Third, how the hell do you know what's going on between Brittany and I? What is she nesting or un-nesting? Is that even a term?"

Reprimanded and feeling slightly outmatched by a much more vicious Santana, Puck pulled at his collar to buy some time. "Sorry, Tana, I just worry and stuff. Shit. All that other stuff? You'll see."

Embarrassed that she let the stress of the day get to her, Santana rubbed his shoulder gently. "I didn't mean to snap, Noah. I know you're concerned about her."

"About both of you, but if you fuck with her, Tan, I swear I'll come after you." Puck never got confrontational with her and Britt, not like that.

But she realized he was dead serious. If he had been any other person, she would have felt slighted and furious. Santana nodded and felt relief because Brittany had the most loyal friend anyone could ask for. "I know."

* * *

Again, she patted down her shirt at the edges even though she had ironed them back in her hotel room. Her dark eyes scanned over her light blue blouse once more, but couldn't find anything else to readjust that she hadn't already adjusted three times. The few hours between when Noah and his patrol dropped her off and the taxi trip over to Brittany's apartment had been maddening. No matter how many times Santana told herself to just wear whatever and not think about, Santana had modeled her entire wardrobe – twice. Finally, she said fuck it! This was Brittany. The same Brittany who wore a flannel set of pjs to a dance their Freshman year of high school. The light blue button-down covered a beige camisole and she opted to wear a pair of jeans. Her hair still hung wavy and long around her face.

It was stupid to even dress up. She was going to get the box and leave. But that's not what she wanted to do. The past two weeks, Santana had spent in California working her own clients and catching up with Terry and even Tim, but the only thoughts she had included a blonde PI waiting for her. Every night for the past four years, Santana had regretted her decision to leave and went through the litany of 'what ifs'. Never had she envisioned herself standing at Brittany's doorway excited to see her ex-lover. Never did Santana see herself forgiving Brittany for distancing herself. Santana had always been the one to distance. It had been jarring and terrifying to watch Brittany spiral down. Like most of her decisions, Santana had a knee jerk reaction.

After time spent apart and years to regret, Santana didn't believe she deserved forgiveness. Yet, here she was about to reconnect with Brittany.

Fuck.

Puck's warning played in her head. Two weeks ago had been rather tumultuous. There would be fucking with anyone's heads. It was just nice to be part of Brittany's life again – as little as that part was.

Whatever. It was just a box. And her partner…

When she knocked on the door, it sounded timid and Santana rolled her eyes at herself before she knocked on the wood hard with more authority. The force sent the door to creak open and she realized the door had been broken the entire time she had been standing there. The wood had splinted around the lock and the handle looked way too loose.

"Britt?" Santana pushed the door open completely, remembering the last time she had been here. It had been a disaster zone. "Your door's…broken?"

A noise, like something dropping and then quickly picked up came from the kitchen. With a soft smile on her face, Santana remembered when Britt wouldn't let her in the first time she had stood outside the door. Brittany must have fallen three times then.

"Ignore Puck's mess!" Brittany yelled from the kitchen. "Come in."

Santana looked at the lock again wondering how Puck was involved. She couldn't believe it. There was hardwood floor and it actually looked nice. All she could remember was her heels getting stuck in clothing and hardly being able to walk out of the apartment without Puckerman's help. Not that Brittany knew any of this. She thought she had hooked up with a random person that night and booted out before checking to see who had slept next to her. As she neared the kitchen, Santana's hands once again began to check that her shirt hadn't wrinkled. The blonde was working at the kitchen counter with a few brown bags. Santana instantly recognized them as Chinese delivery. The blonde still wore the same outfit she had on at the precinct and that yellow hat. Smiling, Santana leaned against the door frame of the kitchen next to the trashcan. "Hey…"

The soft sultry voice pulled Britt from what she was doing with the plastic containers. She looked up to meet Santana's eyes. "Hey."

"Nice place you got here." Santana gave it a once over. The lemony scent of cleaning products lingered in the air.

"It's something to live in. Definitely not the best." Brittany pulled up a paper plate. "Can I offer you some dinner?"

The plate flapped in the air while Brittany's eye brow raised waiting for Santana's response, as if the Latina would dare to reject the offer.

"Well you already gave me breakfast and lunch; I guess it would be silly to refuse dinner too." Santana responded with a smirk as she took the plate from Brittany's hand. The blonde moved out of the way so Santana could choose whatever food she wanted from the rather large variety Britt had picked up.

"Beer too?" Britt asked already popping open two bottles of Yuengling.

One perfectly sculpted brow rose at the offer. "I thought we agreed no more drinking around each other."

"It's just a beer. Besides I doubt they have any Yuenglings in California." Britt took a sip out of the one in her right hand with a sparkle in her eye.

"Fine. Besides I need it after the day I've had."

"I'd love to spend an entire day with Agnes." Brittany said playfully.

"Yeah, I'm sure you would. Don't worry, I think the last time she was married JFK was still alive. So she's probably available."

"I'll keep that in mind next time she wants to do an interview." Britt winked and licked the top of her lips. Genuine laughter felt so refreshing that Brittany couldn't stop smiling. They stared at each other for a few moments with only smiles on their faces. It would have been uncomfortable had it been anyone else, but in this moment, Britt just wanted to feel good. Finally Santana took a sip of her beer to break their eye contact. "I have your box in the living room. I figured we could eat first though."

"Sure, I'm just happy to be anywhere that doesn't involve dissecting my life." The brunette followed Brittany into the living room surprised there was a couch. She definitely didn't remember that the last time she had stumbled through. In fact, Santana hadn't even seen the coffee table or the television either. A rather large box rested on the glass coffee table. Santana paused at the frame of the door. It wasn't her box. In fact, it was an evidence box.

Brittany popped down on the couch with her beer and plate of food. Realizing Santana hadn't joined her, she nodded her head with that cocky tug of her lips. "What's wrong? I swear I won't get handsy from one beer. We can share the couch. Besides I should be the one to watch out for you after you ruined my hat, remember?"

Not rising to the bait about the hat, Santana sat on the couch next to Britt with a comfortable space between them so they weren't touching. "Britt…"

The plate of food rested on the floor next to the couch as Santana touched the box with curiosity and confusion. "The evidence seals are still on this box. It hasn't been opened since it came out of the cages. I thought you said you needed it for your own investigation."

The blonde's body froze for a second at the statement. "I did…"

"You didn't open it, Britt."

"I just needed it." Brittany said. Her eyes went to the ceiling. "Does it matter if I opened it? Just be thankful it wasn't in the police's hands for long. They would have lost it."

Of course it mattered. Brittany violated so many rules and broke laws to take the box and she didn't use it. Santana's heart was pounding, but she didn't know what it meant or how this mattered. Why did Brittany risk all that for her box? "Yeah…you're right they probably would have. It's not a big deal. I don't want to talk about the case anyway. I had enough of that all day."

Santana slid the box off the table and onto the floor still unsure what any of that meant. It was typical Brittany. She always kept Santana guessing.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I just wasn't expecting anything out there. I never thought anything from here could follow me home." It felt awkward to say the word 'home' in front of Brittany and for it to mean a place they didn't share.

"Well fuck it. We won't talk about the case at all tonight. You need another beer."

"But I didn't finish this one."

Brittany's empty bottle made a rather hard thunk on the top of Santana's. It only took a second and beer and foam were rushing out of the top. "Shit!"

"Quick drink it!" Brittany yelled excitedly.

Forced to put it to her lips, Santana started to chug the liquid while playfully shooting Brittany looks. The blonde laughed as she reached over with her free hand and tilted the bottom of the bottle even further up so San would have to drink it all in one go. In a matter of moments, she finished the drink and released her hold it.

"I'll get you another one." Britt's eyes sparkled as she took Santana's empty bottle and stood up. Remnants of the beer from the bottle ran between the PI's fingers, but she didn't mind. In fact, she stuck her fingers in her mouth while holding Santana's gaze before walking away.

* * *

They were a few beers in and the television was turned onto some reruns of SpongeBob in the background, but neither woman was paying much attention. Santana couldn't remember the last time she had laughed this hard. Her ribs were hurting and tears caught at the side of her eyes. Used plates with sauces from their food were scattered around the coffee table. Brittany was now facing her on the couch with her legs Indian style and laughing with her.

"Shut up! I never slept with her!"

"Please, you did so much worse! You had an entire school of all girls convinced that you were employing a small foreign boy as your personal cheese masseuse."

"It's called undercover for a reason, San!" Britt said with a laugh as she knocked back the last mouthful of her bottle. "Besides I heard what you did to Figgins the same day!"

"I did nothing. I don't know what you're talking about…" Santana instantly stopped laughing, but her eyes were dark with delightful memories.

"My sister, Alley, told me what you and her did to Figgins when we thought I wouldn't graduate. I can't believe you strapped him to a chair and threatened to inject him with used needles from the hospital!"

"You mean what she did! Alley's lucky she didn't lose her nursing license." Santana rolled her eyes and leaned forward. The space between them had decreased immensely. "Although seeing Figgins' face go green was totally worth it. Your sister's got a wicked streak to her." Playfully, Santana winked.

"Hey!" Brittany swatted at Santana's arm. They both had a pretty good buzz going on. "Don't get any ideas. Trust me, you can only handle one Pierce…"

The space between them seemed to be growing smaller by the second especially now that Brittany had her open palm rubbing against the blue material of Santana's sleeve. Had she been completely sober, Santana would have jerked away, but there was something magnetic about Brittany. The way she wouldn't let go of her shirt was only the beginning. Her body wanted to lean further into the couch so it could press against those sweatpants if only for a moment. Santana's mind wanted to trick her into remembering the past and the way they used to lounge across each other all weekend and at night watching their favorite television shows.

Needing to clear her head for a moment, Santana's eyes drifted down from Brittany's face to the WMHS Girls Volleyball shirt. She shared a secret smile as she recalled the day Britt had bought that shirt. Unconsciously, her hand reached out and brushed aside some of Brittany's long blonde hair from her chest to reveal the semi-obscured logo better. Santana wanted to ignore the way Brittany's breathing changed at the touch. "I remember when we got these shirts. I can't believe you still have yours."

"It was one of my favorite weeks. Why would I have gotten rid of it?" Brittany asked trying to keep her voice even. Their bodies had inched closer and all she could think about was the way Santana's fingers grazed over the collar of her t-shirt.

"Of course it was one of your favorite weeks." Santana shook her head with that small laugh Brittany loved because it was so intimate. It came from that throaty part of her voice that revealed the compassionate rawness Santana always tried to hide. "It was probably one of the most nerve wracking ones for me. I was a total mess all because of this stupid shirt and you."

Santana couldn't believe how coy Brittany was playing at the moment; it reminded her of the way Brittany had acted that week. It was hard to believe the PI batting her eyes was the same one Santana had to wrestle off a man in interrogation. "I don't know why."

"Shut up, B. You knew exactly what you were doing." Her fingers dug into the cotton material of the shirt to emphasize the point. The pressure of her fingertips made them both painfully aware of how defined Brittany's collarbone was under the shirt and how it was only the thinnest barrier between them. Some part of her brain kept telling her to just pull her fingers away, but it felt so nice to be touching Brittany like this – like they used to. The direction of Brittany's own fingers on her arm changed from barely stroking her forearm to nails trying to coax the softest of reactions from underneath Santana's surface. It was hard to resist the urge to shift her arm closer for Britt's nails to go the complete length of her arm. "What kind of girls go to volleyball practices to just sit and watch them play?"

"Only the cool chicks." Brittany responded with almost the same response she had given Santana all those years ago. "I really thought volleyball was going to catch on at McKinley and we'd be way ahead of the curve. Trendsetting."

"I don't know if you're a bigger bullshitter now or back then." Santana whispered as her gaze lingered harder and longer on the edges of the folds of the t-shirt. Finally, she knew it would be impossible to continue their conversation if she was staring at the shirt the entire time. She lifted her eyes and almost jerked back instinctively. As she had been paying attention to Brittany's clothing, the blonde had been subtly inching forward on the couch. Their faces were only a few inches apart. Words she'd been ready to say escaped her as she met those bright blue eyes so close.

"Hmm tough question." Brittany didn't so much say the words as hum them. Where Santana's hands still remained against the base of Britt's neck, Santana could feel every vibration. "You didn't have to come with me to all those practices."

"Right. Like I could have said no to you? You were skipping all the way there talking about the difference between spanks and spandex and asking my opinion on the matter. You said you wanted to have a mini fashion show with the volleyball uniforms and the cheerleading ones if you could get your hands on one of the girl's clothes in the locker room. I think I was still dating Mohawk head and there you were making me blush beet red down the hallway. I had to go with you just to shut you up. I couldn't have people overhearing our conversation in the hall. I remember trying to get you to sit on the top bleachers in the back so at least people might think we were there for some other reason, but you just had to sit front and center. I was miserable. Worst week ever."

"Maybe the first few days, but-" Brittany finally removed her hand from Santana's arm. Keeping those chocolate colored eyes firmly locked, she rested her hand on top of the one wandering around the collar of her shirt for the past few minutes. It startled Santana, but didn't make her flinch back. Instead the Latina bit her bottom lip as if to stop any noises from escaping. Brittany didn't move her hand, but just held Santana's against the material of her shirt. "-by the end of the week I saw you taking peeks towards those girls and I'm pretty sure you were enjoying it. My favorite part about that week, besides all the spandex, was watching you. All the little things – like the way you would pull at the drawstrings of your cheerleading hoodie in front of your face so it looked like you weren't watching the court. Or the way you would fidget so you could see if I was watching you or the practice. Or my favorite was the way you would bite your bottom lip-" Brittany released Santana's hand and reached up finally breaking the space between them completely. Her fingers spread against her ex-lover's cheeks as her thumb brushed downwards against Santana's bottom lip. Finally, the sounds the brunette had been harboring released into the tiniest of gasps. "-when you definitely thought I wasn't looking."

"But you were." Santana prompted. She knew she should turn away. This wasn't smart.

"Always." Brittany said in all earnest.

Santana tilted her head upward so Brittany's thumb dragged even harder. "Britt." Brittany's name passed through her lips, but didn't stop at only the word. Ever so lightly, Santana closed her eyes and told herself to let it happen. God, she knew she needed to stop, but instead she pursed her lips into the softest of kisses against Brittany's thumb. Just the feel of Britt's bare skin against her lips was almost more than Santana could handle. She kept her lips like that until she felt Brittany's body shift, but Brittany didn't complete the kiss or move any closer.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Santana's heart beat harder and harder in her chest. Brittany wasn't going to make it easy.

Just fall.

She pushed forward the rest of the distance between them. Her hands gripped the collar of Britt's shirt to use it as leverage to pull Brittany all the way to her. The blonde responded instantly. Her long fingers stretched out and pulled at the strands of dark hair around Santana's face. It had been years – years since Santana had felt this alive and inflamed. Everything just came crashing back. All the times they had spent together; every moment they had shared and here it all was. Their mouths parted passionately with intimacy they reserved only for each other. It was hard to breathe as every inhale was filled with Britt. Every inch of her body hummed and felt charged. Brittany's body turned in the couch. The material in Santana's hand twisted as she yanked at that stupid volleyball shirt and tried to help Brittany straddle her. The blonde's sweats spread as she tried to swing her knee on the other side of Santana's body. But the motion knocked over one of the empty beer bottle on the glass table. It created a loud noise as it rolled off the table. The two girls startled apart.

Santana rolled back to the other side of the couch against the armrest. She rolled her head back muttering a soft 'fuck' to the ceiling. Brittany stood up from the couch pacing in front of the television. For a moment their eyes met again and they both weighed consequences of their actions. "Need another beer? I do."

"Yeah, sure." Santana whispered back. After Britt walked away, the brunette lifted her fingers to her mouth in disbelief. That had been so stupid. Maybe Puck was right. They were only going to fuck this up again. Britt returned. She handed her another beer and sat down on the couch next to her with the same amount of space they started with. "Britt, about us-"

Brittany shook her head refusing to even look away from Spongebob. "It's fine, Santana."

It wasn't fine, but Santana didn't know what else to say. All she could feel was Brittany's lips and her hands tangled deep in her hair. For a moment a soft smile tugged at the side of her lips. Maybe Puckerman had been right about them partnering up. Somehow Britt made everything okay by not saying anything. She had always known how to handle her in the best ways. Even now by watching the cartoon and not saying a word, Santana felt like they could just sit here and enjoy what they used to have before reality would come back it. Nothing was ever awkward with Brittany.

* * *

Obnoxious laughter brought Santana out of the deep sleep she had been in. She glanced up and noticed the time on the television clock read 3:30 am. They must have fallen asleep after so many beers and cartoons. She made a motion to move, but realized she was pinned by a body. She glanced down and noticed a yellow beanie resting in her lap.

Fuck.

The night and their kiss replayed in her mind over and over again. What did it mean? Could they just kiss and make up? Could a few beers and a bad day turn into something real? Santana sighed and glanced around the dark apartment and noticed a trash bag that hadn't been taken out to the garbage and a few places where she could see Brittany hadn't gotten to clean as well as it appeared. Could four years really change a person?

She looked down again at that stupid yellow beanie that Brittany had practically glued to her head since their fight at the club. Gently, as not to wake her ex-lover, Santana pulled the hat off. Britt was always the easiest sleeper. She could pass out anywhere and anytime. Even now, she rested peacefully. Unable to resist, Santana ran her fingers through those wisps of blonde hair. Softly, Santana pet Brittany's head and ran her nails along her scalp.

It would be easier to leave now and just put up everything to beers and stress. It would be easier, but it would do nothing to remedy the way Brittany made her feel. She continued to stroke Brittany's hair until Santana eventually fell asleep again.

* * *

**Just wanted to wish all celebrators of Christmas a very merry one! And for everyone who celebrates anything this time of year, I hope you rock it hard. ;) I'll be in 4 different states in the next week – OH, PA, NJ (so far up, practically NY), MD – so I won't have a lot of time to write and be online. But I'll be trying to write as much as possible. If I don't post before, Happy New Year! Hope you rock that celebration even harder. I definitely will be!**

**Thanks again for all the support, reviews, and alerts you've made my year a good one!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Sorry about the long break in installments, I keep promising faster turn arounds, but without class, my work schedule got bumped to full time. Yay me :/ But I missed everyone and it sounds like you all enjoyed a great break/holiday season. I did. :D Thanks again for all the comments, reviews, and alerts!**

**Next in…**

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 18**

Light streamed in from the recently cleaned window and beat directly down onto Brittany's face. The blonde groaned into the material of the couch and ineffectively tried to block it. She didn't want to wake up. Normally, she'd be trying to ignore the dull thudding in her head from another night spent with too much alcohol. This time it felt different. Britt knew she should just stay sleeping because it was the only way she'd ever feel this content. Her right hand reached down to the floor knowing there would be some piece of discard clothing piled up underneath her, but her finger's scraped along the bare hardwood floor. Jarred, Brittany's eyes popped open. Something wasn't right. There were always clothes on the floor and bottles lying about.

Santana.

Brittany jolted from the couch and sat up. Santana had been here last night and they had talked and laughed and kissed. And kissed. They had kissed even if it had been for a moment. But there was no sign of the brunette now. Had it been a dream? It had to be. It was the only way. Now reluctant to wake up, Britt sat on the couch by herself staring at the glass table where a few empty beer bottle had previously rested. The yellow beanie lay folded by itself in the center of the table, like it had been placed there with care.

Santana.

Yet, Brittany saw no sign of the lawyer anywhere about the apartment. The dishes from their previous night of Chinese food and beers were no longer scattered about the living room. A quick glance to the side of the couch revealed the evidence box containing Santana's notes on the case was gone. Santana must have cleaned up before she left or Brittany had acquired a magical cleaning fairy. She sort of hoped it was the latter since she would never have to worry about making a mess again. Slowly, she reached for the hat on the table and brushed back some of her hair. But her part felt different as if someone had been playing with her hair. It had been a really long time since anyone had touched her so intimately. A shudder ran down her body at the thought of Santana's hands on her.

Noise came from the kitchen like a chair dragging across the floor. Britt's eyes glanced toward the doorway and spotted a figure moving around. Quickly, Brittany plopped the knitted hat back upon her head and tried to wipe the sleep from her eyes.

Santana stayed.

Perhaps with the lady killer hat on, she would have leaned against the doorframe and casually said something about how surprised she was Santana decided to stay. But genuine happiness and the eagerness to see her ex-lover wandering around her kitchen overtook her. Britt caught herself from bounding into the opening. Santana had her back turned to her. The brunette had pulled her hair back into a high pony tail and had removed the button down blue shirt she had been wearing last night. For a moment, Brittany just stood at the edge of the kitchen island and stared at Santana as she reached into the high cabinet for something. The material of her camisole rode up her lower back and hinted at a familiar marking. Admiring the view, Brittany decided to not say anything at all. The PI leaned onto the counter with a content smile on her face as she watched Santana bob up and down trying to reach the top shelf of the cabinet. Britt would have offered to help, but after all the cleaning yesterday, she completely forgot what she had shoved up there. Besides, the view was much better here. Santana's ass always looked good and while Britt appreciated the sophisticated and classy skirt, there was something about the way jeans hung and hugged her ex-lover's curves that always made Brittany stare.

It wasn't hard to tell San was becoming increasingly frustrated at not being able to reach the top shelf because she started to mount the kitchen counter and sink to gain more leverage. Now her ass was really sticking out as she crawled on her hands for a second before attempting to stand uneasily on the counter underneath the hanging cabinets.

Unable to help herself, Brittany's smirk turned into a small snicker. "Whatcha doing?" Brittany finally asked.

Santana must not have been prepared for Brittany to be awake or be directly behind her. Unbalanced and surprised, Santana startled at the sound of Brittany's voice so near. The brunette swung her arms out to grab onto something. Britt reached up and caught her hand. The woman quickly righted herself and hopped down with both feet to the tile floor. Britt couldn't help but notice the potentially scary moment had caused Santana's cheeks to brighten and her eyes to light. Her breath came in short pants and Britt imagined her heart rate still beating. Unwilling to release Santana's hand, Brittany smirked and smiled. "Lucky I was here."

For a spilt second Santana almost yelled at the blonde for practically startling her to death, but she stopped. Well her mouth stopped moving, all she could feel was Brittany's hand in hers. As if the blonde sensed her thoughts, Santana blushed even harder as the blonde's gaze shifted directly her lips. Her skin felt like it was on fire and Santana struggled to find a reason - any reason - to turn away. "I-um- was looking for something to fix for breakfast and I didn't want to wake you up."

Santana pulled her hand back and moved a few feet away.

Britt's hand clenched and released her hand in the air at the absence of Santana's grip. "I might have some left-over Chinese."

"From last night?"

"It's kind of the only food I have in the house."

Santana would have said something about the state of Brittany's apartment previous to the great clean up, but then she would have to admit to being here before. And since she had no idea what happened after their fight at Reckloose, Santana thought it was better to keep that information to herself. "I saw some Lucky Charms on the top shelf. That's what I was trying to reach for."

Britt's brows scrunched at the suggestion. She didn't remember putting those Charms up there, but anything was possible. "I guess there still might be some up there."

A hesitant knock came from the front door. Both girls glanced to the front door and then to each other. Puckerman would have just walked in without an invitation, especially since he was the one who broke Brittany's door. Britt glanced to the top shelf and then back to the door. As much as she would love to get another glance at Santana's backside, Brittany didn't want Santana to fall and bump her head. "You mind getting the door? I can get us some breakfast that doesn't taste like dinner."

Santana rolled her eyes playfully and started to walk towards the door. "You know, one time I am going to be the one who gets us food."

"Don't worry, I will definitely take you up on that offer."

Another flush lit Santana's cheeks at the way Brittany so confidently accepted her statement like she would have for dinner and a date. Unsure how to react, Santana took another step back. Last night, she should have left with her box and kept her distance. They couldn't keep playing this game without getting hurt. Brittany was the only one who could kill her from the inside out. Even with the danger of the Strangler looming over her, somehow the possibility of getting burned by Brittany, or even worse, hurting her ex-lover caused Santana more anxiety. Last night had been good, but good things only tended get worse when she cared about them. And she had always cared about Brittany. Even now, Santana wanted to just let everything go and tell the blonde how much she missed her the past four years. But her Lopez pride, her never-assuaged guilt, and her life in California, held her back.

The apartment door had closed awkwardly last night because of the broken lock. Santana had to wrestle the actual door from the doorframe in order to yank it open. A short woman stood at the doorway waiting patiently with two carts on either side filled with clothes.

"Pierce order?" She asked, already shoving a rack at Santana and threw the broken door.

"Umm, yes?" Unsure what to do, Santana pulled the first rack of clothes inside the apartment. "Can I help you?"

"Nope! That's what we're here for. It was probably the largest order I've seen in all 33 years I've worked in dry-cleaning, but it's all there and the bill has already been paid for by a Puckerman. So I'm just here to drop it off."

"Thanks." Santana creased her brows at the mention of Puck paying for all the clothes to be cleaned. She would have a talk with him later to find out what else was going on with Brittany.

After Santana had signed the delivery slip, she pushed the racks inside the apartment and left them in the hallway for Brittany.

"Hey, B, this woman just-" Santana's voice cut off. Brittany had pulled out a small step stool to reach the top shelf. Just like Santana, her shirt rode up her back and revealed a matching mark. A soft smile graced her lips as she thought about how sexy Brittany looked when she wore only a pair of panties and that tattoo on the left side of her back. There was something off about the marking. They had gotten the tattoo one very drunk night together after they had settled on the studio. Somehow Brittany had convinced Santana a picture of a fat cat in a Sherlock Holmes hat was the best thing to permanently mark on her body. The fat cat came accompanied with the letters: LT: PI. That night felt like a christening of their new lives together in New York and of course, the change in name to private investigator, not just a random private eye at the end of Lord Tubbington. Most of their clients assumed the LT stood for something fancy or a name, not the fat cat both women had tattooed to their bodies. Brittany's looked altered, but Santana couldn't clearly make out the difference before the blonde turned around.

"Got it!" Britt jumped down triumphantly with the box in her hand. Santana tried to appear as if she hadn't been roving her eyes down her ex-lover's body. Brittany's excitement wavered for a moment at the look on Santana's face. "What?"

"Nothing." Santana shook her head. "Someone just dropped off enough dry-cleaning for a year."

"Or four." Brittany said without thinking. Santana's eyes snapped up at the implication, but neither woman said another word. Silently cussing herself out for her loose tongue, Brittany searched for something else to say to not lose their good morning. "Breakfast? I don't know how old the box is, but I haven't opened it yet."

"I'll grab some bowls." Santana offered. She opened the cabinets to find nothing. "Or not…"

"Oh right. I forgot. I don't really have bowls or spoons or any of that. So um…" Brittany rubbed at the top of her head and nervously pushed around the knitted yellow beanie. When she had asked for Puck's help the previous night, Brittany had never imagined Santana would stay over or that they'd be having breakfast together. Chinese take-out should have covered everything and then Santana would never suspect how fucked up her life was. Lost and trying to think of way to explain why she had no silverware or dishware, Brittany stammered.

Protective and sensitive to Brittany at all times, Santana instantly recognized the blonde hadn't planned for that question or the absence of normal living things. She hated to see Brittany at a loss. Santana smiled and shrugged. She moved around to the fridge and pulled out the milk. "It's okay. We can just eat the cereal in handfuls and we can drink right out of the carton. It's wouldn't be the first time."

Brittany's body instantly relaxed. The PI sat down on the stool at the island counter in the center of the kitchen. Santana opened the box and the bag inside. The table appeared clean enough. She spread the Lucky Charms across the surface. They both reached for the closest rainbow marshmallow at the same time. Brittany was faster and swiped it into her mouth. Santana quirked her mouth to side playfully. "You always get the marshmallows."

"That's because you'd give them to me." Britt smiled and scooped up a few more. Santana took a drink from the milk carton and passed it over to Brittany in exchange for the marshmallows in the blonde's hand. "Breakfast is always better without bowls."

"Except that one time you decided breakfast without bowls was even better in bed." Santana shook her head at the memory. "We had marshmallows in the sheets for weeks! It was terrible!"

"Best breakfast ever." Brittany popped a red balloon in her mouth. "You know you liked it."

Santana attempted to maintain her serious stare, but Britt started to wiggle her eyebrows up and down at her. "Maybe it wasn't half bad…"

Once again, Santana thought about broaching the subject of the previous night. But that would mean putting an end to Brittany's smile. It would mean they would have to see each other only as the case permitted. She couldn't continue her train of thought; something hit her square on the nose. Santana blinked. The blonde sitting across from her had the biggest smirk on her face. Brittany threw another piece of the cereal at her. Santana returned the favor with a small snort right before a torrent of cereal flew through the air. In a matter of moments, the kitchen Brittany had worked so hard to clean was raining dry cereal all over the floor.

* * *

Santana expected her detail to be waiting in an unmarked car outside Britt's apartment, but when they both finally exited from the building, they were standing and waiting for her. Both Brittany and Santana were shoved into the back of a cop car and driven to Santana's hotel for a few minutes for the lawyer to change her clothes. She decided to leave the evidence box in the room so Macklin wouldn't confiscate it back. A part of her, the part which defended and knew the law inside and out, felt at odds keeping the tampered box. But Santana had told Macklin four years ago there was nothing in that box that would lead to anymore breaks in the case. She just felt better knowing its location.

Both women looked at the gathering news trucks and reporters lining up around the streets as they made their way into the station. There were always news vans in and out, but these ones looked as if they were waiting for something. It was strange since neither of them knew of anything that would have the vans circling.

Like always, the department was pulsating with its own life as people were waiting to be booked and others were being released. Yet, the energy seemed different and Santana didn't know if it was because she was acutely aware of the blonde walking next to her or something else. Brittany's whole demeanor demanded attention at all times. Perhaps it was her natural grace or the way her bright blue eyes flashed around the office. Normally, Santana would have kept her eyes only on Britt, but she quietly observed those who met the blonde's gaze. At times, they seemed to desire the opportunity to meet the silent challenge in her azure eyes. Quietly, Santana frowned, unable to fathom all the moments she missed in the past four years to cause the kind of tension that seemed to swirl around Brittany Susan Pierce, PI. What had Britt been doing the past four years? Santana's brow creased as they walked toward Puckerman's desk.

The past few times there had been whispers whenever they passed through the department, it had to do with something they did or because of the case. Since Santana had just returned and Brittany spent the night with her, Santana couldn't imagine why there were so many whispers between people. Santana noticed Agnes and the FBI agents chatting amongst themselves way back in the department where Macklin's office door was closed. They noticed Brittany and Santana. The two younger agents turned away after spotting them, but Agnes continued to keep her eyes on them. Santana didn't like the way her eyes lingered.

"I can't believe he is here in New York."

"Who cares about New York! Can you believe he is here in the office! I've texted everyone I know!"

Brittany's attention shifted to where New Girl was chatting with another intern about someone who was obviously causing a sort of commotion early in the morning. Not even the FBI roused this much excitement.

Noah was nowhere in sight.

"Pierce, Greene wants to see you." Detective Greene's favorite lackey, Peterson, approached the two women.

"You can tell him to fuck off." Just like that, Brittany changed. The blonde leaned against Puckerman's desk and tugged at the yellow beanie on her head. With her clothing back, Brittany opted to return to her PI outfit complete with a purple tie today and black leather gloves which were cut off at the fingers. Knowing how Britt used to dress herself, Santana accurately guessed the gloves had fully covered the fingers at the time of purchase. Either Brittany decided to cut them or they were cut from necessity.

"I don't think that's a good idea, but you never really do have good ideas, do you, Pierce?" The man sneered.

Britt seemed either unfazed, or she didn't want to respond to this other officer, as she turned away from the desk.

Santana had about enough of this prick coming over and dictating where Britt should and shouldn't be going. Besides, they only took orders from Macklin and occasionally helpful suggestions from Puck. She knew Greene's name from the meetings and detectives assigned to the Strangler case. Filled with a sudden sense of protection, Santana stepped in between the man and Brittany. "What kind of authority does he have ordering us around?"

"You?" The officer laughed haughtily. "Greene doesn't give a rat's ass about you."

"Who do _you_ think you are? You little fu-" Santana had fully turned to confront the guy when she felt an arm grasp her around the waist from behind. Her words cut off as Brittany pulled her backward from attacking the other officer. Confused why Brittany would stop her from rounding on this asshole, Santana turned around in Brittany's arms. "What? This creep deserves a stomp down."

"Not now." Brittany's eyes weren't even on her. Santana's frown deepened. What the fuck? "I got to take care of something."

"Britt?" And just like that, Brittany walked away. Santana stared at Brittany's backside for a few more seconds unsure what had just occurred. Once again, Santana was left to wonder what had occurred in the years she had been gone. A figure still remained in her periphery. Peterson was still standing there with that smug look on his face. It pissed Santana off that he still lingered while Brittany had been summoned away. "What are you still doing here?"

"Greene doesn't want you, but Macklin does. He said you were to report to interview room number three."

"And he sent you?" Santana grabbed her briefcase and jacket. She didn't trust leaving anything around that this asshole could touch.

"Yeah, he mentioned that I might tell you to come along." Peterson glanced to Greene's office. "I'm even to escort you. Don't want you to get lost or anything."

"Whatever." Santana snapped. Her shoulder glanced off his as she pushed passed him. She most certainly didn't need someone to bring her around. Peterson remained behind her at an uncomfortable close distance. Had he been anyone except a police officer, she might have turned around and given him a shift kick to the groin. But instead, she shut her mouth and pretended his wasn't hovering over her.

Interview room three was already in session and closed so no one could look inside.

Peterson maneuvered between Santana and the door making sure to graze her breasts as he did so with his forearm. Santana clenched her teeth, but again didn't say anything. Peterson gave it a second before he knocked on the door once as if inviting Santana to make some comment or retaliation. The door opened and Peterson stepped back to allow Santana barely enough space to enter. Santana glanced back to see if she could see the blonde PI anywhere, but still couldn't find her.

"Ms. Lopez, please come in." Macklin's voice brought Santana right back. The brunette turned around right as a body crashed into hers with a big hug.

"Captain!"

"Ufh!" Santana pushed the body back taken by complete surprise. The man she pushed back was tall at 6'1 and with an impressive build from working out most of his life. He was young though only twenty-three, but had been a renowned teenage heart throb on a few shows when he was fifteen years old. His hair was dark, shaggy, long, and apparently he had started to work on some scruff. Santana was used to seeing him clean-shaven and his few strands of hair were laughable. Tim always had the most charming smile and Santana was positive that besides his actual acting talent, it was his greatest asset. Although he would argue it was his hot bod.

"Tim!"

"Hey!" He grinned like a cat at Santana's surprise.

"What are you doing here?" Santana almost smiled back at him, but she knew he had photo shoots and promotions back in California. He didn't have time to go gallivanting around the US.

"You said to make sure the postcard got here in mint condition and I didn't want to trust the post office. You never know, the Strangler might work for the government and find some way to intercept it. So I thought, I would come and you know give it to you myself. Besides it's been forever since I've been over here. I thought I might fly to Lima and see my mom too."

"Tim, you should have at least told me that you were coming." Santana smiled and shook her head.

"Yeah, but your phone could be wired or tapped or something and I didn't want to give it away that I was bringing evidence."

Santana could hear Macklin groaning from the table in the center of the room. She had completely forgotten he was there. But she ignored him for the moment. Listening to Tim talk about all the possibilities the killer could be using to track her made the Latina remember when this PI stuff used to be fun. There was always danger, but nothing serious. And Tim and Britt always had the most ridiculous theories which more often than Santana liked to admit, were usually pretty close to the truth. Tim had been part of their gang in high school. Of course, he was only thirteen years old at the time, but he had been a great addition.

He moved out to California at the age of fifteen when he landed a gig on a show as the teenage kid. A few years later he was in money trouble and a few other tangles. Santana moved to California and heard about him from a few of her clients. In two years, Santana had turned his career around. Already he had three movies and a mini-series on HBO. He should be promoting his newest movie, but here he was.

"You're still in trouble."

"I know, but I wanted to see you and make sure you were okay." Tim's brown eyes glanced to the door behind her.

Santana's mouth quirked to the side. "You wanted to see her."

Tim's eyes darted back too quickly for him to even try lying. "Maybe."

"She's not the same. I didn't want you to see her because I know how special your relationship was with her and I don't want that to change." Santana said softly.

"But I don't-"

"Ahem." Macklin coughed, not so subtly, to gain their attention.

"Sorry, Andy." Santana moved to sit with the chief at the table. "I had no idea he was coming."

"Well, it's been a surprise for everyone in the department, but apparently not for the news reporters." Macklin's frown went straight to Tim who attempted to give him a charming smile back. It didn't work. "They've been following him around since he arrived in New York and so when he came waltzing in here, they went crazy. I've got calls coming in asking if we are trying to pin the murders on Tim Kepley and if we are going to use his expertise from that one crime movie he did on the case. Do you know how large my headaches are getting?"

Tim cringed. "Didn't think about all that, but if you need my expertise-"

"I don't need a fucking actor coming in here and stirring up an already fucked up situation!"

"Tim, maybe it's best if you get out of here for awhile. I can call your agent and arrange for a flight to Ohio."

"You're not coming?" Tim looked back at her.

"No." Sterner than usual, Santana said the word with absolute assuredness.

"But I thought maybe I could get you away for a bit and maybe Britt too." Tim said. But he already saw his plans falling apart.

"I'm sorry, Tim, but we have to finish this. We have obligations to someone else. It's very personal this time, and I can't leave again. Not like last time."

"Boss lady feels the same way?"

"Yeah, Tim, that's why she never left New York."

"Well, here's the postcard. I hope you catch this guy." Tim handed the postcard in a plastic baggie to Santana. But in a way the postcard seemed so innocent and yet felt so wrong. The skyline of New York was all she could see and she didn't want to read the message on the back. San shook her head 'no'. She had been harassed enough and didn't want to give this sick fucker any more of her time. She didn't want to even touch the malicious postcard. Tim took the hint and handed the bag over to Macklin. "Sorry about causing all the problems with the press. Sometimes I forget they follow me around."

"Just don't come back here without a warning next time. Our department already has enough eyes on us without adding more attention."

"Understood." Tim gave the man a salute. Santana whacked his hand down before Macklin could react.

"Thanks, Andy, I'll make sure he gets out of here without causing too much of a commotion."

"Thank you, Miss Lopez." Macklin said, but he was already preoccupied by the postcard Tim had brought from California.

Ushering the man out the door, Santana realized most of the department was once again looking at her. Shit. "Come on. Does your agent know where you are?"

"Kinda. I said I was going to do you a favor."

"Great. So now I am going to be blamed for not babysitting you properly."

"I was just trying to do the right thing. It's not like you two can solve a case without me. You, me, Lord Tubbington, and the boss lady."

"Tim!" Santana grabbed the much taller man's arm and turned him back to face her. "This isn't one of those cases, Tim. It's not like that. I don't want you here. I don't even want to be here. A friend of mine died because of this killer, Tim. A friend. I don't want to lose anyone ever again like that. Please, just don't be here in New York for too long, okay? This isn't a game. Obviously whoever this guy is knows where I live and that means he probably knows about you too."

"I'm sorry, Santana. I didn't mean to make a problem."

"I know." Santana spoke softly and rubbed his arm. "You just care and that's what I need sometimes."

Tim nodded. His hands ran through the thick wavy hair on his head. Before he could offer yet another apology to Santana, his eyes picked up on a figure crossing the station.

Santana turned and saw Brittany exiting an office with a scowl on her face. The PI looked anything but pleased. Santana could only imagine that her meeting with this Greene guy had gone poorly. She glanced back at Tim's goofy grin. Idiot. He couldn't even see that Brittany was ready to kill someone. As friendly as Santana was with Tim, Brittany had always been his best friend when they were together. Santana couldn't let Tim see Britt this way. It would crush him. Brittany had been everything to him. "Tim, just let her go. You can see her another time."

But he was already running through the office towards the blonde. Brittany looked up and stared at him hard unsure why some man was barreling through the police station towards her. Santana frowned ready to pick Tim off the floor. After watching Brittany literally beat a suspect in an interview room, Santana knew Britt had the capacity for some serious rage.

But Brittany's head quirked to the side like a small puppy. A small smile spread. And suddenly the PI was laughing and running towards him. Santana's mouth dropped. Tim went to pick up Brittany, but the blonde beat him to it and she lifted him a good two inches from the ground in a bear hug. When she put him down, Tim ruffled her hair and played with the yellow beanie. Brittany punched him a few times in the stomach for fun. Their laughter cut off the moment they made serious eye contact.

Santana rolled her eyes. Of course they would be best friends still. It was like nothing had changed.

"Tim!" Brittany yelled. "You ready?"

Tim nodded and stuck out his hand which Brittany slapped so hard it sounded like a gun shot through the office. Even if most of the department had been ignoring the rather famous celebrity in their midst, now they couldn't help but watch. As the PI's and the actor's hands slapped each other multiple times, pounded, exploded, brought it back, built the tower, fed the cat, checked out the ladies, stole the cookie jar, released the kraken, and ended with a chest bump.

And of course they would remember their secret hand shake. Santana rolled her eyes again, but couldn't repress the smile on her face. This was her Brittany – the Brittany who could laugh and make everything better.

"Boss lady! I missed you! The captain said you were here so I couldn't stay away. I wanted to see you." Tim said excitedly.

"I can't believe you're here. I knew those acting lessons I gave you would help you make it big."

"I sent you an invite to all my premieres."

"I know." Britt's smile faded slightly. "I've been busy."

"It's cool. My mom says hi. She misses having you around and me. She's back in Lima now. She didn't like all the craziness in LA."

"Aww your mom probably liked all the attention though. She's a total single MILF."

"Nah, she's married again and he's a pretty nice guy."

Macklin stepped out of the interview room and shot Santana a glare over the desks.

"Hey, I know you guys haven't seen each other in forever, but we should probably move this somewhere else." Santana said behind Tim's back. Brittany flashed her a smile much different from the expression she had given the Latina earlier at the mention of Greene.

"Are you going to be here for long?" Brittany asked Tim.

"Not sure. I think I am going to have my agent set up some promotion stuff on the east coast while I'm here."

"So that means we can hang out or something?" Britt asked with a smile. "Cause you're like four times bigger than you used to be and that means we can definitely sneak into more places now."

Santana groaned and glanced back to see if Macklin was still glaring at them, but the chief was on his cell phone speaking very quickly and with urgency. Santana frowned.

Not good. A few officers glanced to their own phones to see messages and were receiving calls. Shit. As one of the officers ran past her, Santana grabbed at his arm. "What's going on?"

"There's been another body found." He said before grabbing his coat and running toward the door. The sick feeling in Santana's stomach grew into a tighter knot. Another body. Another woman. She could be next.

"Pierce. Lopez. Let's go. Puckerman's already on the scene." Macklin shouted to them.

"Sorry, Tim. We got to go. Thanks for bringing the postcard." Santana touched his arm before throwing on her coat and giving Brittany a glance.

The PI's bright blue eyes hardened at Macklin's words. She was already focused on the body and the Strangler. "Yea, bye, Tim." Leather jacket already on, Brittany readjusted the gun behind her back and pushed her yellow beanie back down her head. For a second, her intensity softened. She placed a soft peck on Tim's cheek. "It was really good to see you."

The young man nodded with a sad smile. Tim realized that he couldn't hang around anymore and that he certainly didn't belong. He backed away and walked slowly behind Brittany and Santana.

"If he killed another woman, than does that mean you're on a different time line?" Brittany asked quietly not wanting to upset her ex-girlfriend.

"Dunno." Santana responded in the same soft voice. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer.

Macklin jumped into one of the cars and sped away in front of them. Lights and sirens were going off everywhere. But the flashes from cameras made it hard to distinguish what was happening. Santana turned around and forgot Tim had followed them out.

"Shit. Tim, you've got to get out of here. Can you do that?" Santana glanced around. Brittany had already opened the door to the beat up department car, Ronny, and was looking to her partner impatiently.

"Yea, I'll be fine. Should be no problem making it out of here alive. This is the police station." Tim glanced around.

The reporters already crossed the street and began their questions. "Can you tell us why you're in New York?"

"What are you doing at the police station?"

"Tim, can you explain your presence here in the middle of one of the worst serial killer cases in years?"

"We've got word there's another body!" The cameras quickly shut off and started to get packed away. A few reporters stayed with their lights still shining on the movie star. "Are you going to the scene of the crime right now? Was one of the girls killed a girlfriend of yours?"

Tim's driver opened the door to his limo and made space for him to enter the vehicle. Santana had to believe that Tim would be able to make it through New York without too much trouble. They had bigger problems to attend. The car idled as Britt waited for Santana to get in. The moment her door closed, Britt hit the gas. Santana barely had time to click her seat belt on before the car made a Batman turn through the middle of New York and sped to catch up to Macklin's car.

* * *

The news vans and reporters had beaten them to the scene of the crime by a long time. Brittany parked Ronny and they exited looking for Puckerman or Macklin. Three rings had formed around where Brittany assumed was the body of the newest Strangler victim. The first circle around was the ring of reporters, news vans, and general population who lived in the neighborhood. They pressed against the police lines and huddle with each other in quiet voices discussing what happened. Or who found the body or how long it would take till they could enter their homes.

That was normal, but what Brittany wasn't expecting was the second ring. Quite a few officers and detectives she knew working the Strangler case were also lingering on the outskirts of this middle circle looking into yet another set of 'DO NOT CROSS' tape. A few of the guys were drinking buddies of hers from the Ruffed Grouse. And by buddies, she meant they would bet against her in billiards and therefore she had outstanding drinks to cash in on from them. Puck had stopped the flow of real money for the most part when he realized the guys were getting pissed about always losing half their pay checks to the PI. He decided that Brittany would mostly gamble for drinks. When that started working to her advantage as well, most of the guys just decided that she wouldn't pay for a drink at the Grouse for the opportunity to shoot against her. Then she ended up getting kicked out of the department anyway - thus ended her reign at the Grouse. Most of the guys were relieved, but she had recently rekindled some old friendly competitions. Brittany pulled out a pack of cigarettes from an inside pocket on her leather jacket as she approached the gathering.

"What's with all the tape?" Brittany casually asked as she lit a smoke and offered it to the three men standing there. Two of them took up her offering and the lighter from her hand.

"Fucking Feds dicked us over." The one responded with the cigarette flapping in his mouth. "I thought they were supposed to be working with us."

"Threw us out and told us they would be handling the crime scene from here and that if they needed us, they would invite us in."

"Chief's over there throwing a fit. Cause you know it's our investigation and they pretty much told us to fuck off."

"So none of our people are in there?"

"Dr. Mitchell is collecting the body. Puckerman was the first to respond to the on-scene blue. So he got in there before the feds kicked everyone out."

"Know anything else?" Britt took another drag of her cigarette and became acutely aware of Santana's eyes on her. The PI tried to not look back at San, but it was difficult. It had been awhile since she cared about the stares she received. This time Britt knew it had more to do about the person staring than the reasons why Santana was staring.

"Nope. That's all you missed."

"We're just waiting for some jurisdiction bullshit to come down or for the chief to push us through. Whatever comes first."

"So we're pretty much supposed to sit on our asses and twiddle our thumbs while the feds fuck around with our investigation." The other guy who didn't take the cigarette finished off the thought while chewing too hard on what Santana could only guess was some sort of nicotine gum by the way his eyes kept darting to the smokes in his buddies' hands.

"I don't plan on sitting on my ass all day waiting for some bureaucratic bullshit. I don't have to play by these rules." Brittany nodded to her fellow Grousers who grunted in acknowledgement. The one even winked at Santana.

"Have fun, Pierce." The last one said as he flicked the butt of the cigarette to the ground and tipped his hat to Santana. "Try not to cause too many problems. Press is swarming already and Mack will have your ass if you put anymore pressure on this department."

"Yeah. Yeah." Britt said with little concern for the warning. She turned around and caught Santana's eyes. The dark haired beauty nodded and fell into step with Brittany as they made their way round the middle circle of the crime scene circus.

"I thought they were here to work with the department." Santana said. Her temper was already rising as she realized they would be way down the list for access to the newest victim. "How is this any help?"

Britt frowned at Santana's question. She had been wondering the same thing. But her blue eyes were scanning the crowd. "It isn't. It's got to be some sort of power play for the press or for the mayor or something because Agnes hasn't been like this since she's got here."

The Columbus Blue Jackets hat stood out in a crowd of native New Yorkers. Noah was the only detective not yet assigned to crowd control hanging back from the crime scene. In fact, he seemed almost disinterested. Smoke swirled calmly around his head and his dark eyes purposely avoided the crime scene. Santana could vividly imagine why Puck wouldn't want to look toward the presumably cut up and bloodied body of another young woman. Images of Rachel, Felicia, and the woman the killer led her to via that message at the hotel all flashed through her mind. Even time can't erase some memories. Santana called out. "Puck!"

The detective raised his head to acknowledge the shout and his friends before looking back down again. Santana turned to see if Brittany had also seen Noah, but the blonde was moving through the crowd of the NYPD to the front where the FBI had their own people holding off the officers. Santana stood there with her brow furrowed. Goosebumps ran up and down her arms as she watched the PI maneuver through the crowd with little regard for protocol or rank. Macklin was yelling at the one FBI guy who had refused to let Santana eat between her interviews. Brittany gave the argument a second's glance before she worked herself up to where Agnes was calming regarding the scene and talking on the phone. The old woman with the steel grey hair and the no nonsense attitude turned to regard the tall blonde woman with apparent apathy.

Brittany nodded her head up once. Agnes blinked hard at the blonde PI and stopped talking on her cell phone. For a moment, Santana feared Britt would do something insane to get close to the body. The way they were looking at each other as if each was measuring the worth of the other made Santana clench her hands into fists ready to jump into the fray to come between Britt and the FBI.

But it didn't come to blows or shouting or demands or anything that could be construed as a fight.

Agnes glanced to the one FBI agent to her left and nodded in Brittany's direction. Then turned around back to the body and back to ignoring Brittany. The tall one stepped forward and hooked his finger once to indicate that Brittany could walk through the lines and approach the crime scene. This caused a moment of unrest and grumbling from the rest of the police department. Santana's eyes unconsciously glanced to Macklin who was sporting yet another color of purple today.

Not good.

But her attention couldn't stay away from Brittany for more than a second. Wordless and in awe, Santana watched as the blonde ducked under the line and entered the FBI crime scene as if she owned it. Only Brittany Susan Pierce could work her way into anything with seemingly little to no effort. Unsure if she should follow the blonde, Santana remained standing there. Like they used to, Brittany must have sensed Santana's hesitation. The PI turned around with that special glint in those bright blue eyes she reserved only for Santana. She flashed Santana a smile, complete with a wink and the tip of her yellow beanie before she followed the FBI despite the cries of protest from the NYPD. Santana breathed a small chuckle to herself.

Only Brittany.

Puckerman had moved closer to the reporters and she figured it would be more productive to find out what he saw than to try to chase Brittany through the now furious mob of police - not that she could blame them.

"Hey sexy lady." Puckerman attempted some bravado of his own at Santana's approach. He was leaning easily against a street lamp.

"Heard you were the only one to get here before the feds." Santana answered with a smile and leaned against the mail box to his left.

"Yeah…" Puck said with a shaky voice and an even shakier hand as he lit another cigarette.

His unease wasn't lost on the Latina. "You okay?"

"No." He breathed out a response before placing the newly lit smoke to his lips. "Sometimes it doesn't hit me as hard and other times…She looked just like her."

"I know." Santana frowned and inched closer to him. Comfort had never been her strongest quality, but she did feel for her old friend. She placed a hand on his forearm and rubbed him slowly up and down. Comfort had always been Britt's thing. The blonde had always been a natural at compassion and empathy. She had been the one to teach Santana to open herself up to those things. Her thoughts moved back to Brittany despite Puck's obvious pain; Santana couldn't help but to think about how Brittany was taking another girl's death.

"So you guys partnered up then?" Puck asked, following Santana's gaze into the crime scene where he knew she had to be searching for Brittany.

Coughing, Santana blinked hard and turned back to her friend so it wouldn't be quite so obvious where she was staring. The way Puckerman was giving her the bro glance with the sly smirk caused Santana to hit him pretty hard in the arm. "Not that kind of partnering up. Seriously, what kinds of porns do you watch? You have some pretty strange ideas of partners."

"Psssh. I knew you two back in high school and then some. And trust me, the things I fantasized about you two were _way_ better – much better – than any porno." Puck's eyes glazed over.

"Ew. You're such a perv." Santana hit his arm harder this way.

He rubbed at the sore spot. "I mean they were the things I _used_ to think about. Now, you two are the craziest bitches I know. Like for real – I wouldn't even think about hitting either of you up. On the crazy hot scale, I'm not even sure there's a measurement for how crazy you are."

Santana raised her eye brows at him. No matter how much she pretended to be angry at him for his leering, she appreciated that he was trying to keep her attention away from both another dead woman and from the one who would probably be the death of her. "Puckerman…"

"I mean obviously I don't think you fit on the hot part of the scale either so really you two still just scare the shit out of me."

"Shut up, Noah." Santana leaned into him this time with a little nudge. His strong arm wrapped around her shoulder. She had come over here to make him feel better, and yet, somehow he had done that for her. One day she would learn the secret, but for now, Santana enjoyed the feeling of her friend so close while her eyes sought out the only person who had made her feel truly safe and secure for her entire life. It was hard to believe the same Brittany standing next to the FBI in spite of Macklin's growing fury was the same woman who had done a super secret and ridiculous handshake with a childhood friend only an hour ago.

They had kissed last night. Fuck. So many things were between them and Santana couldn't believe she had just kissed her. What had she been thinking? She could never think around Brittany. Her fingers tingled as she thought about the brief moment and the way Brittany's soft lips had grazed hers. The feel of the blonde hair in between her fingers and every breath she inhaled from Brittany.

The detective caught sight of something other than the blonde and smiled softly across the distance. "Hey, Tan, I've got to-um- do something. You'll be okay, right?"

Santana glanced up and disconnected their bodies swiftly, embarrassed that she had allowed him to comfort her. She was really terrible at these things. "Sure. Whatever. I've got investigative things to do I guess."

Puck was already walking away, but not toward the crime scene. Santana's dark eyes watched the detective as he crossed the space to the other side of the reporter lines and leaned against another lamp post. This time there was a woman with a camera man snapping photos of everything right next to him. Should have known Puckerman would leave her for his new girl or whatever she was. Brittany hadn't mentioned anything, but from the way the two were talking, Santana could only imagine they had known each for more than a few fun nights. Maybe this was Puck's mystery date from the night they went to Reckloose and she was a reporter? Santana shook her head. Idiot.

Santana's eyes shifted back to where she had last seen Brittany. God, she needed to stop looking for her and yet, her feet started walking through the group of cops. A few of them recognized her as Brittany's partner and shot her dirty looks, but she didn't get very far. Suddenly the crowd started to surge forward and phones were pulled from pockets as new orders were given and received. It seemed like the FBI was finally willing to give into the police departments' demand for full disclosure and a shared crime scene. Agnes and her men were walking to their cars, but Santana didn't see Brittany anywhere. It's not like she could have disappeared.

"Looking for someone?" A very familiar voice asked her from behind.

Santana turned already with a smile on her face. The yellow beanie stuck out in the crowd of darkly clothed men and woman. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. My partner ditched me for someone else."

"Oh yeah?" Brittany smirked. "Was the someone else hot?"

"I wouldn't say hot, but my partner always did have some of the strangest tastes. I will say, this other woman probably has a hundred more years of experience than me."

"Tsss-" Brittany made a mock hissing noise with her teeth. "Sucks. But I'm looking for a partner maybe we can work together."

"I'll think about it-" Santana teased back. The crowd was undulating back and forth with the department's equipment and new orders to investigate the scene with their own people. Sirens started to blare in the space as officers moved the crowd of civilians back even further so some of the squad cars could leave. The sounds of sirens and the flashing lights brought both women starkly back to the reality of the moment. Santana's eyes darkened as she purposely didn't turn back to where the body would be. "Is it the Strangler?"

With a sigh, Brittany knew their playful moment was over. She fumbled for the cigarettes in her pocket and ignored the frown on her ex-girlfriend's face.

"Britt?"

"Yeah, it was him." She tugged at the beanie on her head and looked away. "He really messed her up. Whoever she was. No ID on the body."

"I'm sorry." Santana said softly.

Her apology caught Brittany off guard completely and her blue eyes refocused on the woman in front of her. "Why?"

"I-" Santana searched for the words to explain that she never wanted Brittany to be alone to face that kind of evil. "-It's hard to see that without anyone. What did Agnes want and why did she let you come in?"

"No idea." Brittany shrugged earnestly. "I just had a feeling that if I wanted to, she'd let me in. She's strange like that."

"Mack wasn't happy."

"He's never happy. It's not like I fucked anything up or anything."

Finally, they both turned to the crime scene and knew it would be processed for the rest of the day. As consultants, there was little they could do. Noah had been summoned away to work on something and was in the thick of things. Santana had enough death for a life time and really didn't want to see anymore. Eventually, Santana's body guards escorted her home and Brittany took a cab back to her apartment. There would be all sorts of interviews and questioning the next day and waiting for lab results on the victim. It would be better to take some time for themselves and rest up. Macklin was bound to have something for them to work on.

* * *

"Puckerman! Lopez! Pierce!" Macklin bellowed from his office the next morning. Santana had literally just arrived with her escort and she could hardly believe Brittany was at the department this early. But the Latina imagined it was for the same reason Santana was – no sleep. What could they have done to already set Macklin off? Puckerman glanced around nervously and practically ran into the chief's office.

Santana sighed and stepped into the office before Brittany had even finished pouring the sugar into her coffee. Macklin was pacing back and forth behind his desk, already worked up and onto the color magenta; soon he would be hitting the royal purple. Santana cringed and took the seat next to Puck. A minute later, a very tired looking Brittany appeared in jeans and a t-shirt covered by her leather jacket and the yellow beanie.

"What's up?" She asked not even bothering to look away from her coffee to see Macklin in a total rage. He literally appeared ready to burst.

"What's up!?" He repeated and threw three different newspapers on his desk in front of him.

FBI DROPS NYPD FOR ADVICE FROM PI

_FBI was seen consulting privately with private investigator from last Strangler case at the scene of another ghastly murder. Police were left waiting to twiddle their thumbs as the PI and FBI-_

There was more written, but the picture of Brittany and the FBI chatting while the detectives and Macklin looked on with anger was a little more illuminating. But that wasn't the only article on the desk. Oh no, a tabloid went on to create even more drama.

MUSICAL CHAIRS IN NYPD

_Internationally known actor, Tim Kepley, was seen leaving the police station today and seems to be involved with his legal representative in the Strangler case. He was brought in for questioning today and seen in the arms of NYPD consultant, Santana Lopez. Could there be some conflict of interest now that a suspect and one of the professionals brought in to help on the Strangler case are meeting behind locked doors?_

The article insinuated that Santana and Tim were romantic even though it was suspected that the lawyer batted for the other team. The author of the article suggested that Tim could turn anyone. Santana scowled at the last part. Yet there were still more. One newspaper ran with an opinion piece that Tim had a girlfriend in New York that had been killed by the serial killer and he was here to seek justice with or without the police's cooperation. It speculated that Tim could be the answer New York needed in this time of crisis and that Tim's newest film which featured some incredible fight scenes could come in handy.

Santana cringed at the last one. Really? A woman was dead and this is what people thought to be news worthy?

"This isn't our fault." Brittany said rather calmly.

"No? It's not your fault? Do you know how many fucking fires I've been putting out since yesterday when you walked into my crime scene with the Feds like you were best friends? Are you trying to fuck me over again? Do you want this entire department to hate you more than it already does? You know how many fucking people called for you off this case after that arrogance yesterday?"

"Hey!" Puckerman spoke up in Brittany's defense against Macklin for probably the first time in his life. "The department doesn't hate her. And why are you even concerned about it. She's not trying to work against us. You know that."

"You better shut your mouth, Puckerman. I'll get to your fuck up last."

"Andy, this is _not_ the way you should be talking to any of us." Santana's voice dropped to that very serious level. Her dark eyes were clouded at the way he had just treated both Puck and Britt.

"Oh you think so?" Macklin could be just as stubborn as she. "You were the one who brought the actor here. Now I'm fielding not only the press, but the paparazzi and the presidents of his fan clubs already vouching for his alibi and threatening my men because they think he's involved in some way."

"I didn't know he would be coming!" Santana refuted, but Macklin didn't care.

"But he still came and I have twenty more problems to deal with because of it!" Macklin's eyes narrowed as he glared at both Santana and Brittany. "You two are on probation from here on out. I mean real fucking probation. I don't want you fuck ups in the department for a few days. I need to dispel all sorts of rumors your actions caused. I'm not taking you off the case because of our past, but that's the last time I'll tolerate this recklessness. Am I clear?"

Santana gritted her teeth and clenched her hands into fists. She wasn't used to taking orders or bending to someone else's will especially when she wasn't in the wrong, but she thought about Rachel and what she owed her friend. "Yes."

Brittany nodded silently after Santana's assent.

Macklin turned his attention to Puck who sat there confused and rubbing the top of his head nervously. "You are going back to surveillance tape duty. No more bodies. No more first responder. No more anything. As far as I'm concerned, you are off the case indefinitely."

"What!?" Puck practically leaped from his seat stunned and confused. He wasn't the cause of anything Britt or Santana did. Why was his punishment the worst? "I don't understand. Why?"

Even Brittany's and Santana's mouths dropped at Macklin's punishment. It didn't seem fair at all. It made absolutely no sense.

"You can't be serious, Andy. Puck didn't do anything. He wasn't even with us yesterday and I am more than responsible enough to take the blame for my actions." Santana quickly defended her friend and held a strong hand on Brittany's shoulder. She could feel the PI's body tensing and ready to shoot out at any time.

"No, but he has to take responsibility for his own actions." Macklin flipped the last newspaper onto the desk for the group to see. But obviously there was quite a lot of confusion since this article seemed to be the best one.

STRANGLER STRIKES AGAIN

_In conjunction with the newly arrived FBI, NYPD, led by Chief Andrew Macklin, investigate the latest killing by the serial killer fashioning himself to be the next Strangler, or the Strangler himself. Police have been hard at work trying to catch the killer before he strikes again. The name of the young woman murdered has yet to be released, but it is speculated that she was murdered only a block away from her home. _

"Guess I shouldn't be surprised that the only reporter that didn't report on Tim or Pierce was the one that Puckerman's been fucking." Puck practically growled at the accusation and the crass tone in Macklin's voice. But the older man ignored it and continued. "Although the picture did happen to feature Ms. Lopez in the background and I assume the yellow blob headed figure talking to the FBI is our wonderful consultant, Ms. Pierce."

"You're lucky nothing's gotten out about this, but really Puckerman." Macklin shook his head in disappointment. "I made you lead detective because I had faith in you to do this job responsibly. This is worse than anything Pierce has done. We're just lucky it was brought to my attention before anyone outside the department figured it out."

Macklin's word caught Santana's attention. Her lawyer switched on automatically. She wanted a source. "Who said something?"

"None of your concern." Mack cut her off and threw some pictures on the desk of Puck talking with Jocelyn at the crime scene. The quality wasn't the best and they looked like they were taken with a phone, but clearly it was Puckerman and that woman.

"She's not doing this for a scoop. Her article was the only one that even detailed the crime and not the star appeal or the juicy gossip. How can that be bad?" Brittany jumped in to defend her friend. Puckerman had collapsed into his chair holding his head in both hands.

"It's bad because she's reporting on a case that he's working. If other media outlets get wind of this, there will be another media shit storm and that's not something I can handle right now. I'm already getting major pressure from the mayor's office to get this case under wraps and I've got the FBI and this actor running around now. And I have _nothing! Nothing _on this killer! There can't be anymore pressure." Macklin shook his head and finally fell into his chair with a great exhale. "I'm sorry, son, but until this is over, I need you on the tape from the hotel and working low profile bits on the Strangler. I may reassign you to another case."

"Mack!" Brittany protested.

"No, it's okay, I understand, sir. I was reckless at the crime scene and I would never do anything to jeopardize this case. You know how important it is to me."

"I know that and that's why I'm doing this." Macklin sighed again, stroking his peppered beard.

"Am I dismissed?" The detective muttered.

"Yeah. You can leave. I am sorry, Noah. I really am."

"Sure, chief." Puck rose from the chair and let himself out.

Both Santana and Brittany spun back to face Macklin the moment the door to the office closed.

"You can't do this."

"I can and I have to. This is the only way until everything settles down around here. Don't you two have somewhere to be that's not in my department? I meant it when I said you needed to leave for a few days. I've got asses to kiss and bruised egos to soothe. So I'd appreciate it if you two gave it some time."

"But what about the newest girl?" Britt asked softly. Santana felt guilty she hadn't at least gone to see her, but she had just about as much as she could handle.

"You two have other avenues and other ways to approach the case not privy to the law. I'm sure there are a few leads you haven't fleshed out yet." Macklin glanced to the door of his office. "And take Puckerman out of here for the day. I think he needs some time to absorb."

Brittany's eyes crossed over the space to Santana and without saying another word, they both exited Macklin's office. Their first place to visit would definitely be their friend's desk. Unsurprisingly, Puck sat staring at the ceiling. His hands wrapped around his head as he leaned back trying to recollect his thoughts. It had been stupid to even approach Jocelyn at the crime scene, but it wasn't like they were all over each other. In fact, he could have looked like any officer trying to keep the press outside the yellow tape. And pictures? Obviously, someone just wanted to make sure Macklin's only choice was to take him off the case. It had been stupid. So stupid.

"Let's take it to the Grouse, Puck. Come on. We don't need to be here today." Britt picked up her friends coat from the back of his chair. The motion should have disrupted Noah's position, but the man barely budged. Frowning, Brittany bent over. "Not here, Puck. Don't let them see you like this."

Sighing, Puckerman nodded and took the coat from his friend's hand. Santana picked up the keys to his cruiser and tossed them to him. "I think I just need some time alone."

"Yeah at the Grouse. We can drink and get wasted and then I'll bring you home." Brittany said with a small smile. She still couldn't believe how fast things fell apart and it didn't even feel like they had fucked up.

"Let's just go." Puck muttered and they started to follow him out of the police station. They would have made it all the way without any more problems but a figure stepped in front of Noah. The other man caused Puck to stop and look up. But he didn't need to. He could already hear Brittany's teeth grinding.

Greene.

"What the fuck do you want?" Brittany asked before Puck could push the other detective out of the way.

"I just wanted to know what you three were going to do while the real detectives do our jobs. I imagine, you'll probably do the only thing you can do, Pierce, drink and fuck a lot of people." Green smirked. His dirty blonde hair had recently been cut. It didn't have the same swoop Brittany remembered from when they first met a few years ago.

"Fuck off."

"I see you still have that wonderful temper."

"Leave her alone, Greene. We're leaving." Puck placed his hand on the other man's shoulder to move past him. Derek moved an inch to allow Puck space to take a few more steps toward the exit. When Brittany went to walk by, Greene moved back into her way.

"Maybe now that you've got nothing to do, I might let you see our kid more often. Wouldn't that be nice of me? I'm sure the judge would love that." Every malicious word out of Greene's mouth felt like another dagger. The day had already been complete shit and it was only ten in the morning. This time she wasn't going to let Puck stop her. The blonde cocked her fist back, but Noah snapped out of his stupor just in time to intercept the PI from making a huge mistake.

A voice bellowed from behind them. Macklin must have been watching the whole thing go down. "OUT! Get out now!"

Puckerman didn't need to be told twice. He held Brittany up in his arms around her torso so her feet were kicking in the air, but he was too strong to fight against his grip. The detective literally carried her out of the department.

Santana's mouth wouldn't work. Her brain wasn't functioning.

Kid?

If Brittany couldn't hit this prick, Santana needed to let him know that no matter what just went down, that he would never be able to pull that kind of stunt with Brittany again. She stepped into him. Her eyes were flashing dangerous as she looked up into his eyes. Greene stopped laughing to look down on her.

"I don't know who the fuck you are, but if you try anything with her again, I will end you." Santana's voice dropped even lower. They held each other's gaze for what seemed an eternity. The sparks that crackled between them were fueled with such energy; Santana wondered how long it would take till this fucker melted under her gaze.

But in spite of her threat, Greene just pulled back from their staring contest before laughing to himself. Santana shook her head in disgust. This wasn't over. But Britt and Puck needed her right now. The Latina shot him one more crippling glare before she turned and ran after her friends. She was sure Puck had carried Brittany out kicking and ready to kill the closest person to come near her. Once Santana got her hands on the Britt, the PI had a lot to answer for.

* * *

This wasn't over.

Greene was sure of that. The other detective smirked as they all left the precinct. Ms. Lopez might not know his name now. "But you will…" He whispered softly to himself. "You will…"

* * *

**Thanks for all the comments and reviews. I have decided that I am going to start responding to individual comments in my profile, that way it doesn't take up space in my narrative. I can answer specific questions or just talk to people who leave me a comment every chapter. **

**Also I did post my one-shot, so if you're looking for smut, you know where to go. It's called _Playtime in Skirts and Ties_ )**


	19. Chapter 19

**Wow. The reviews from last chapter were…intense! All I can say is that some of you are just as passionate about **_**Sirens**_** as I am. And that's really cool. Intense, but cool. I just want you to know that I am very invested in character development and while it seems like I sprung this out of nowhere, I knew this was happening from chapter 1. I promise I will try to make the plotline satisfying! I knew there would be a reaction like most of you had to the cliffhanger. My girlfriend almost broke up with me after reading the last chapter for editing. Seriously, I've been dodging dagger eyes since she's read it. So I NEED to make it good. Hahaha. I've got a lot riding on this plotline. It's not just Brittana anymore. :D**

**The continuation of…**

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 19**

Her hands were shaking and she felt like the world was caving in. Sure, she had pulled out the big threat and the speech and even tried to intimidate a man who could easily handcuff her for some bullshit like assaulting an officer – all for a woman, Santana was beginning to realize, she knew nothing about.

_Kid_

The word kept echoing around her as she stormed out of the police station. Everything felt so strange and foreign like she couldn't find the sidewalk under her pumps. Nothing made sense. Bewildered and searching desperately for a point of reference, the sun from the rather clear winter morning hit her hard.

_Kid_

A kid? A fucking kid? A kid?

She reluctantly accepted the fact they had both moved on in the four years they hadn't seen each other. Every time Brittany walked through the station, it was like watching a woman crossing a minefield. Only the blind would miss the tension and the stares the blonde garnered at every turn. Santana knew the look of one who got burned or left behind. At one point in her life, Santana had watched the woman she loved more than anyone in the world, date other boys. She knew the look of loss. It had been hard enough repressing that nagging voice in her head and the quite loud and real voices of others in the department talk about how "Pierce literally fucked them" before.

_Kid_

She could even ignore the drinking and the empty bottles of liquor, the woman's number underneath Brittany's bed she had found, and the fucking cigarettes, which Santana was positive Puckerman must have gotten her into. Santana didn't care that Brittany had just done her laundry probably for the first time in four years. Or that she didn't have food in her apartment. Or bowls. Or spoons. Or any silverware. Or that Brittany put that ladykiller hat on Santana's head at the club. Or that Brittany wore that yellow beanie like it was part of her body. Or that every time Santana felt like running back to California to escape New York and all her confusing feelings caught up in the blonde, all it took was one smile from the PI and Santana forgot all the good reasons why she should just leave.

_Kid_

Santana shut her eyes hard. It wasn't that she didn't believe Brittany would be a wonderful mother. Santana knew that was furthest from the truth. No, it was the idea that Santana had never imagined that kind of life for Brittany without being involved. It hurt. It hurt more than Santana wanted to acknowledge because the possibility had never even crossed her mind. And the worst revelation was Santana didn't know she still felt that way.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Santana covered her mouth with her open hand and hung her head. "Fuck, Britt."

And with that asshole? Nothing made sense.

Overwhelmed with feelings and emotions that Santana could barely handle, let alone face, the brunette took deep breaths to recollect herself. All these conclusions were going to kill her. She needed answers. She needed Brittany Susan Pierce.

Looking around, Santana noticed Puckerman shoving someone into the backseat of a cruiser. The PI was putting up a mighty struggle and seemed to be yelling more at an absent Greene than Puckerman, but since Puck was present for the rant, and Greene wasn't, Puck took the most heat. His face was flush from their spar for power and even though he was physically stronger than Brittany, the blonde wasn't getting into the backseat of the cruiser without a fight. "Get off me, Puck!"

"No!"

"It won't help, Britt."

"But he deserves it!"

"Of course he does, but it's only going to start shit again."

Santana approached as swiftly as she could, but right as she neared the two arguing, Puckerman finally got control of the situation. With a final shove, he pushed Britt into the back seat far enough that he could slam the door of the cop car. Off balance, Brittany didn't have time to get up to stop the door from closing. The blonde slammed her hand fruitlessly at the window and tugged at the handle, but the lock was designed to keep the most hardened criminals at bay. Puck leaned against the top of the cruiser with a sigh.

Bad day.

It was a very bad day.

Brittany was glaring at him from inside when she realized Puck had trapped her. The detective turned around with a sigh of relief, but it didn't last very long. Santana's face was unreadable. Or perhaps the Latina had such a gamut of emotions running across her face that Puck couldn't accurately gauge how to respond to the emotionally disturbed Santana Lopez. Obviously, the kid thing never came up between the two of them. The fires in Lopez's eyes were enough to kill anyone in the crossfire right now.

"Let her out." Santana's voice cracked with authority and an eerie evenness which made Puck's fear grow.

"Can't. Or she's going to do something very stupid."

"I don't care about what she's going to do. I want to know what she's already done." Santana growled. Her dark eyes flashed to the blonde in the backseat. Brittany was sitting in the middle of the seat with her arms crossed and resolutely not looking at the conversation taking place outside of the car. "I want an explanation."

"Fuck no. Not here, Tan. I want alcohol and my football helmet before you're allowed to go at her." Puck's eyes flashed to Brittany as well. "Get in the car."

This was the second time today someone ordered her around. It was beginning to grate on her patience. But Santana wanted to hear the word 'kid' from Brittany's own lips. If this was the only way Puckerman was going to release Britt, Santana would play along for now. "Fine."

"The window's up. So it's not like you can talk to her in the car even if you wanted to. Save it for my house. You can duke it out there. Be warned, I'm bringing my cuffs for protection so if you two try to tear each other apart, I'm cuffing you to something."

Santana knew her friend's attempt at some light humor was meant to cheer her up or pull her attention away from how fucked up she felt. But it was only making it worse. Santana's eyes continued to stare at Brittany through the window. "Whatever. Drive the fucking car."

Brittany's eyes snapped open at the sound of the car door slamming again. The blonde looked up to see Santana in the front seat next to Puck. Her heart was racing already and she had completely forgotten about Santana after Greene had instigated her. Blue eyes sought out the comfort of Santana in the rear view mirror. The cold and hardened gaze the lawyer returned hurt. Now her racing heart stopped dead and she lost her breath. How could she explained how she had royally fucked up everything she touched the past four years? The vehicle lurched forward and picked up speed, but Brittany's eyes went nowhere except to Santana's face.

And fucking Greene – that prick was always meddling and generally making her life miserable. Not that she blamed him, but he took it out on everyone Brittany loved and held close.

* * *

_First days were always the worst. Even if he wasn't new, he had just transferred and transfers were always on thin ice until they could prove their worth. He realized he was no exception. It didn't matter that he had just made detective and he had worked his way through vice before requesting to be moved to homicide. Apparently vacancies were happening all over this department and he had a feeling the answer was easily solved. The Midnight Strangler case had been handled poorly and directives were raining down from above. Change needed to happen. A new mayor had been elected on the premise of cleaning up the police department, especially where they had failed to apprehend a major serial killer. _

_He had a bit of pull with a few of those higher-ups and when it came time for his promotion, he cashed in on some favors to get the transfer. Call it a boyhood dream, but his father had worked in the same department many years before and he had wanted to follow in his footsteps. Luckily, quite a few of the big boys of the city had sons and daughters who needed shit to be swept aside without their underhanded habits breaking to the press. He didn't like the idea, but he didn't want to stay in vice forever. _

_The leg to his chair had been unscrewed; he could see signs of tampering. For a moment, he debated if he should sit down and just take the fall. Everyone would laugh and have a good time all at his expense. It would open him up to a few more pranks, but they would appreciate the new guy. Fuck it. He wouldn't be the department's bitch. He had earned his place. Without looking around, he bent down and quickly fixed the chair before taking a seat at his desk. _

_Sticky. _

_Of course he didn't check the bottom of the desk for anything. A few of the guys behind him snickered. Even the interns giggled. _

_He let out a soft sigh. It was going to be a long road. _

* * *

Puck drove into the parking lot of the liquor store around the block from his building. Scowling Santana in the front seat and unbearable Brittany in the backseat made it easy to determine how much alcohol he needed for the rest of the day. Lots. He glanced to Santana who appeared ready to kill at any moment. "I'll be a few minutes. Just stay right here. Everything's locked and I have the keys so you can't reach her."

"Whatever."

"Maybe you should hear her out before you go all Lima Heights on her."

"I think you should get what you're getting and hurry up, Noah."

Scary voice. Puckerman didn't like the glean in Santana's eyes at all. Shit. He should really just leave them in the car all day to cool down. He hopped out of the front seat and made certain to take the keys with him.

Unable to make herself look up into the rear view mirror again, Santana sat fidgeting with her fingers in her lap. Had this been high school she might have taken out her nail file to kill time and distract herself. After a few minutes of stubbornly refusing to meet Brittany's eyes in the mirror, Santana risked the upwards gaze. Years and years of sharing every emotion, every joy, every sorrow, everything and Santana already knew Brittany was trying to convey everything to her through the rear view mirror. Santana's breath caught in her throat. She felt overwhelmed the PI could still effect her like that. Without even asking, Britt was begging for forgiveness and patience. She wanted everything Santana's stubbornness and hurt pride did not want to surrender. Had she been the only one to not know?

Brittany's lips moved softly behind the glass and Santana could read her own name being spoken.

The car door opened. Puck threw a rather large bag of alcohol onto Santana's lap. The bag provided a needed distraction from Brittany's gaze.

Wine box. Bottle of tequila. Bottle of Stolis'. And a bottle of Vlad. The last one made her pull it out of the bag with a questioning eyebrow. "Really?"

"They were on sale."

"They're always on sale." She popped the plastic bottle back in the bag. "There's a reason for that. Let's go."

It was only a few more minutes before Puckerman had parked the cruiser. He turned off the engine and turned to Santana knowing Britt wouldn't be able to hear them converse.

"Just wait till we get into my place before you do anything okay?" Puck glanced into the rearview mirror. "Play it cool, Lopez."

Sick of reassuring Puckerman, Santana didn't even bother to say yes or no. She popped out of the cruiser with the bag of alcohol and started for the apartment door. Puck frowned as the Latina stomped to the door without looking back. All his survival instincts were telling him to flee and to flee now, but he went to the back door of the cruiser and unlocked it for Brittany.

"Just tell the truth?" He asked in a way that was supposed to be supportive, but like Santana, the blonde pushed through him and started to walk up to the apartment building.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Yet neither woman said a word to the other. In fact, they both stood there staring through the door to the building waiting for Puckerman to approach and let them in. Even though they appeared to be behaving, years of fucking up with women had made Noah wary of the calm. Because he knew it came before the storm which was followed immediately by fire, brimstone, and fury. Gulping, the man opened the door to let them in.

* * *

_It wasn't half as bad a few weeks into the job, but for some reason he still hadn't found his place yet. Sure, he had been given a partner and a few very low level cases to work, but they were hardly anything – barely active. It was frustrating. _

_He glanced over to the a few places over to another desk very similar to his own. Another man had also made detective at the same time, but he was already working cases – real cases. Apparently, he had been a cop working in this precinct at the time of the Strangler and everyone knew him. The newly appointed chief even had a soft spot for him. No one talked about it though because it had to do with the Strangler. Envy and frustration were the dominant emotions he felt every day he came to work. There seemed to be no end in sight and he would never break a case with the ones he was assigned. Climbing the ladder seemed impossible. _

_With another sigh, he leaned back with his hands on his face. It wasn't fair. This was supposed to be where his dreams came true. Wouldn't his father be proud to see his son working some throw away cases and generally ignored by the rest of his squad? Fuck. _

_And then she came. _

_It was the first time he had really seen her up close. A few times, she had blown through the department so fast; papers would trail in her wake. Sometimes he heard whispers about her, but it was hard to pin point anything substantial about her except…she was stunning._

_And arguing…_

_With the other newly promoted detective. Everyone in the squad called him Puck. He could overhear most of the argument from his desk. _

"_Look, Britt. I can't help you anymore. Not like this. Not now. There's literally an axe hanging over our heads right now. Any extra time, money, or effort not approved by the city will be scrutinized."_

"_Puck, please. Just let me look through your database and check this guy out. I swear it will be the last one."_

"_Britt, you said that last time and the time before that. I can't. I just can't." Puckerman's eyes pleaded with the blonde to understand, but it was clear she didn't want that answer. "I just got promoted. I can't risk it."_

"_Is that what you would say to her?" The woman, Brittany, asked with a terrible implication behind her voice. A shiver ran down his spine as he grew more intrigued. This conversation was intimate. The type of intimate one didn't share with outsiders, and yet he couldn't help but listen closer. Her question obviously disturbed Puckerman as the man ran his hands through recently shaved head. When Puckerman had been promoted, the department got him very drunk a few nights in a row and the last night they shaved his head when he was sleeping. Of course, he hadn't been involved in any of those pranks because he had been working the system to get transferred. _

"_Not cool, Britt." Puckerman said and looked away. "It's not like she's here to say anything to."_

"_Yeah and look what you're doing to help find the guy who killed her."_

_Ouch. It had to be a Strangler thing. The blonde's eyes looked up and connected with him. Another even stronger chill ran down his body. Her eyes were so blue – a bright blue that held depths he couldn't begin to fathom. She was gorgeous. _

_And also staring right at him. _

_He blushed hard as he realized he had been blatantly staring at her. She held his gaze. Mortified for looking like an asshole, he coughed into his hand and turned away. All he had on his desk were some cold cases. He began to shuffle them around. Idiot. He was so busy making sure that he looked busy, he didn't realize Brittany and Puckerman had ended their conversation and the PI had quietly made her way across the office to the front of his desk. He looked up. _

"_Um-" Words caught in his throat. He wasn't normally like this._

"_Hi." The woman named Brittany leaned casually onto her desk with her elbows on the surface. Those bright blue eyes batted at him. _

"_I didn't mean to stare. I was just-"_

"_Curious?" Brittany supplied the word effortlessly. _

"_Yeah curious, I guess." He rubbed the back of his neck. When was the last time a woman had set his game off? Back in vice, he was known for being a favorite of the hookers they busted and the women in the casinos and backrooms. Then again, he had never met a hooker as beautiful as the woman in front of him. _

"_Me too." She smiled softly. "I'm curious about a lot of things. You must be new here."_

"_I am. And I think I can answer some of your curiosity as well?" He smiled feeling a little comfortable as the woman lingered at his desk longer. A few of the others in the department looked his way, but he couldn't read their expressions properly without fully breaking eye contact with the PI. And that was the last thing he wanted to do. "My name-"_

"_Uh-" She breathed out the noise rather than telling him to stop. His name stuck in his throat. "Not yet. I come with one of those warning labels. Well more than one. So before you start, I need to give you the run down."_

_Confused, but still intrigued, he decided nothing else was going on. He needed a break somehow and maybe this PI would be it. He nodded. "Alright?"_

"_I like full disclosure, so I'll give you the full list of side-effects. I'm dangerous. I shouldn't be mixed with alcohol. You shouldn't allow me to operate heavy machinery and you definitely shouldn't bring me to work." Her blue eyes glinted and he knew that while she was playful, she meant every word. She was _very_ serious. "People tend to get it mixed up and suffer from bouts of confusion and dizziness when they are around me too often. I will probably leave you with nausea, cramps, and cotton mouth."_

_Shit. He rubbed the back of his neck a little harder, but still couldn't take his eyes from hers. Finally, he ran a hand through his dirty blonde colored locks. His hair flopped gently down over his forehead in the signature wave he liked to style it in. He didn't make it to this department by always playing it straight. Maybe it was time to start making new connections and a bigger network here. How bad could it be? _

"_So, what if I'm okay with all of that? Do I give you my name then?"_

"_I saved the worst side effect for last." She tipped the front of her hat up just an inch with a devious wink. _

"_And that is?" He didn't know if it could get worse._

"_Addiction. But let me be clear, there are no refills." For the first time, he witnessed her eyes turn to cold steel. Another shudder ran down his body. What kind of woman was this? She held out her hand for him to shake, if he wasn't intimidated. "Brittany Pierce, PI."_

_Shit. He wanted to look around the office to see how the rest of the department was reacting to their moment, but her eyes held him captive. Her conversation with Puckerman and the Strangler case were all taboo in the department. He should not get himself mixed up in this shit._

_As his father taught him long ago, sometimes the only way to get ahead was to play a little dirty. _

_Fuck it._

_He took her hand with a firm grasp. "Greene. Detective Derek Greene."_

* * *

Puck led the way up the stairs. The elevator had been acting funny for the past few weeks and there were multiple work orders put in to his super, but they were currently being ignored. Puck was just about ready to use his gun to threaten the asshole for a fix, but he was only a few floors up. Besides, he hoped a small walk up a few flights of stairs would perhaps tire the ladies out. His eyes wandered to the bag of alcohol in Santana's hands. Maybe he could grab the bag and lock himself in the bathroom for a few hours. As they neared his door, Puck could already feel the two women tensing up. He slid the key into the lock and turned the knob. As he entered, he felt the bag of bottles being shoved into his arms. The force of the bag being pushed into his body and the way Santana's body went behind the motion, Puck stumbled a few feet into the door. Caught off-guard, Puckerman barely had time to react, but he did glance up in time to the brunette's eyes flashing with fire.

"Oh shit." He breathed out before he regained his footing. But wasn't quick enough with the bottles jostling in the brown bag to stop the Latina from shooting forward toward Brittany.

Every emotion she had been trying unsuccessfully to contain or brush off erupted. Santana forcibly tugged at the collar of Brittany's outfit to pull her the rest of the way into Puck's apartment. The blonde's body jerked forward with little resistance. Santana's other hand pressed against the opened door and slammed it shut. Brittany's back hit the back of it with a dull thud. Those bright blue eyes flashed open and then closed swiftly, but she wasn't fighting back. Too enraged to notice, Santana stood on her toes. Her face was only an inch away from her ex-girlfriend's face.

"San! It's not-"

"Shut up, Puckerman! I can't believe you knew and didn't tell me!" Santana felt betrayed. How stupid had she been? Kissing Brittany and knowing absolutely nothing about her life?

Fuck Brittany knew nothing about hers and there she was falling for the blonde haired beauty all over again. "A kid? A kid, Brittany?"

Brittany's eyes softened. She knew Santana wouldn't take it very well, but she hadn't expected this type of response. Guiltily, part of her felt vindicated to know Santana still cared so passionately for her.

She couldn't deny that she hadn't told Santana. In fact, she had made a point to make sure her ex-girlfriend wouldn't find out.

"Tell her, Brittany!" Puck yelled from across the hallway. "It's not her kid!"

Brittany shot Puck a glare from behind the Latina's head. "He is! He's my responsibility!"

"But that doesn't mean he's yours. And according to the state, he isn't." Puckerman growled and finally plopped the bag in his hands onto the small table in the foyer. He pulled out the Stoli's and opened the bottle. "And you two were supposed to be cheering _me_ up. I'll be cheering myself up. Over here."

Santana didn't even hear the rest of Puckman's lament. Not her kid? What did he mean? Why was she so in the dark?

"What does he mean?" Santana yelled still unable to control her feelings. She had never been very good at emoting and totally distraught had never shown off her best qualities. Brittany's eyes darted back to Santana's. Realizing how dramatic she was acting, Santana slowly released Brittany's collar, but didn't back away from the blonde. Softly, she pleaded, "What does he mean?"

* * *

_Her leads and connections at the department had dried up. With the election of the new mayor and Macklin's promotion to the top spot, everyone was looking to keep their noses clean. No one wanted to get tangled up with the PI, not even Puck. What choice did she have? She had no way to use police resources to look up suspects and follow leads without people on the inside helping her. She had burned through all her contacts. The new guy was the only person completely unaffected by the Strangler and the fall that occurred. _

_This was the last guy she had to check out. Another lead, but this time it was from one of the victim's family members. _

_Lazily, she flicked the butt of her cigarette to the ground in front of her and waited for this Greene guy to show up. Brittany had called Greene yesterday to set up a time to meet and check out one of the suspects to the Strangler case that walked away without further scrutiny because the killings had stopped completely. The detective had run a few other names through the system for her. Nothing exciting, but enough to give her a few more weeks worth of work. But Greene insisted that he had another lead for her to look into and told her to meet him._

_Greene was running late. She took a swig out of the bottle inside her jacket and shook her head at the burn. _

_She sighed. The heat of her breath connected with the frigid winter air. It had been two weeks into their "partnership" and so far they hadn't run into any complications. Well complications in the bad way. _

"_Sorry I'm late. I was checking the address." Greene came up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist. The kiss on the side of her neck felt dry and cold like the weather. He was the first person since…_

_Brittany turned away from his grip and moved a few feet away from him. Confused, Greene smiled anyway, but shot her a look. _

_Santana would have told her this was a dead end, but she would have done it with that smirk on her face. But she would have stood there and waited for Britt to check it out anyway. She would never have been late. Santana would have picked her up first and driven her here. And she would have told Brittany it was a dead end because they were literally at a dead end – the alleyway didn't go anywhere. She received a tip that her suspect would be meeting with his dealers here. _

_No dealers. No asshole. No killer. No anything. Definitely no new lead like he promised._

_Just Greene standing there. _

"_Isn't this where you said your contact would be waiting for us?" Brittany wanted to think about the case. The case was the only thing that mattered now. She would find Rachel's killer. She had to. Santana was gone. Kurt had moved on. Quinn was in and out of the city. All she had left was Puckerman and he couldn't be with her anymore because she was a liability. She lit another cigarette. _

_No Santana. _

_Brittany had let her go and Santana walked. She had to live with that now. The touch of his hand on her waist again startled her back to the present. _

* * *

"Ever regret something you wish you could take back?" Brittany asked quietly. The question didn't demand a response. They both knew the answer.

She felt the deepest regret, one that had been buried for four years. Before she could stop herself, the brunette answered the question so honestly the word cracked and splintered into an inaudible whisper. "Yes…"

* * *

"_So why are we out here if your contact isn't here?" Annoyed, Brittany once again moved away from the extra invasion of her personal space by Greene. _

_He smirked as if he knew a secret Brittany did not. "I had a feeling calling you for the case into the middle of nowhere would be the only way to see you on business other than the Strangler case."_

_Slowly, Derek worked his way back toward her body, once again invading that personal space bubble. Brittany had been manipulating the department for the case since it had been officially closed and Greene certainly wasn't the first and he definitely wouldn't be the last. But clearly, he was too new to know that she didn't want anything serious. The guys, and some of the ladies, knew the reason Pierce would come around. She wanted information. She wanted access. She wanted to put a serial killer away when everyone else wanted the Strangler case to disappear. _

"_So you are just fucking with me?" Brittany asked with an even voice._

"_Well, not yet, but…"_

"_Hey." Brittany put a hand up into Greene's face. "Do you hear something?"_

"_What?" Greene asked with an annoyed sigh that the PI had once again moved away from him. This was becoming tiring. "I didn't hear anything."_

"_I heard something from down the alleyway." Britt stated with authority. She reached behind her back for the handgun Puckerman had helped her pick out. The handle felt odd in her hand, but Puck wanted her to be safe if she was working solo. Santana would not have approved. _

_Fuck Santana. _

_Thoughts of Santana always popped up in the most unexpected and distracting ways. _

_Fuck Santana._

_Brittany Pierce worked alone now and for good reason._

_Greene hesitantly raised his own gun, already convinced she had heard nothing, and pressed his shoulder up against hers. Well, she practically worked alone. Sometimes…_

"_I'm sure it was nothing."_

"_Look, Greene." Brittany said his name with a certain amount of distaste. She could hear the doubt in his voice. "I heard something." _

"_Alright, Pierce." Greene said her name almost like a forceful question. "Let's check out this noise."_

* * *

"And that's when I found him." Brittany's mouth tugged to the side. She looked past Santana's head to Puckerman. Noah stood against the opposite wall of the foyer with a comforting frown on his face. Nothing had gone right for his friend since Rachel's death. Nothing had gone right for any of them.

"Found who?"

"Lucas Thomas."

"Lucas Thomas?" Santana repeated still confused. But the name clicked in her head. "LT?"

Brittany's frown softened into a small almost apologetic smile. "Well that's what I called him anyway."

* * *

"_What's your name?" Brittany instantly knelt down. The gun in her hand felt incredibly awkward and clumsily in the midst of a child who had to be only three or four years old. He had beautiful green eyes and dirty blonde hair, but not quite as golden as Brittany's or even Greene's. The kid's clothes were dirty and his eyes were big at the sight of another person. Brittany couldn't tell if he was frightened of them or relieved to see someone. "I won't hurt you. I just want to know your name."_

"_Here." Greene bent over and pulled out his badge and held it out for the kid to see. The glint of the metal caught the street lamps from behind them. "This means I'm a good guy. We won't hurt you."_

_But the child shied away from the shield and moved a step away from Brittany. The PI frowned and waved Greene back with her left hand. Her right hand pulled out her own badge to show the kid. "Mine is better." She said with a generous smile. The paper for her PI license stuck to the plastic of her leather holder tight, but she worked it out. The young child watched her fingers dig out the paper. Finally, Brittany extracted a much older piece of paper. This one was definitely not state issued or legitimate in any way, but it caught the child's attention. _

_It was the badge Santana had helped her make in high school. It read: Lord Tubbington: Private Eye. Investigator: Brittany Susan Pierce. Every color in the rainbow and a 64-pack of crayons made a debut in the colorful badge. It had been a very long time since Brittany had even thought about the old piece of paper, but somehow it had glued itself to the back of her real license. The child reached up and took the coloring with a smile on his face. _

"_My name's Brittany. What's your name?"_

_The child said nothing, but kept smiling. Brittany didn't know what to do. In some ways she knew how this kid must feel – lost and perhaps even abandoned. _

"_Pierce…" _

_Brittany had forgotten about Greene. "We can't leave him out here."_

"_Of course not. I'll call child services to pick him up at the station." Greene turned around and pulled out his cell phone. Britt looked back at the kid._

_Shit. _

"_Wait." Brittany stood up and pulled on Greene's arm. "They'll put him in the system. Let me try and find his parents first. I am an investigator. It's kinda my job."_

_Greene hung up his phone, but his frown lingered. "It's against protocol. I'm sure you're good, Pierce, but they've got whole networks and systems for this kind of thing."_

_On cue, the child started to cry. Brittany turned around and picked him up into her arms. He buried his face into her shoulder. For the first time since Santana left, Britt felt a connection to another person – a deep and real connection. Her heart ached at the contact and the feel of his little hands buried in her hair. "Yeah, but they've got thousands of kids to work for. I'm taking him. I can cover more ground in a shorter time. Do this as a favor for me, okay?"_

"_Fine, but this isn't over." Greene pointed between them. Brittany's head cocked to the side. She didn't like the way Greene assumed there was something between them or that she had to pay him back. She would find the kid's parents and then they would continue with their investigation. "We can partner up again later."_

* * *

"He didn't talk much, but he could talk." Brittany said quietly. "And he didn't give me a name. Lord Tubbington had just died and I was all sorts of messed up."

Santana could hardly breathe. How could she have left Brittany this fucked up?

"So I just started to call him Lucas Thomas. He liked being called LT. I stopped working the case. I stopped returning Greene's phone calls. I looked for his parents and made stops to other precincts for missing children, but a report was never filed. So he stayed with me. I don't know…we…needed each other."

* * *

_Another day spent with Lucas in the car seat and driving around searching for someone missing a child. Brittany was beginning to think whoever had left him, didn't want him returned. _

"_Can I watch cartoons when we get home?"_

"_Sure, you can watch whatever you want, Lucas." Brittany said with a smile on her lips as she looked into the rearview mirror. Her phone buzzed in the console. A quick glance confirmed her fears – Greene. He had already left her a few voice mails and texts, but Brittany didn't want to have time for him or the case. Someone needed her. _

_Brittany waved a hello to Miss Patty on the way into her apartment building. Ever since LT had started to live with her, Brittany had regained some of her old self. It had been a burden to go up the elevator to the apartment she had shared with Santana every day. But it seemed easier holding onto Lucas' hand. He smiled and waved enthusiastically back at the older woman. Pat would watch him when Brittany had to leave him behind. LT loved hanging out in her jungle of an apartment with all the animals she illegally kept. The only other person she trusted with the boy was Noah and he would come around and hang out. Puck and Britt had put aside their argument from the other day to watch out for the kid. When Brittany wasn't obsessing over the case, they easily fell back into their roles as best friends. _

_Lucas bounced next to her as they walked down the hall. Santana would have laughed to see him with a panda hat on. Or maybe she wouldn't laugh. Maybe she'd think Brittany wasn't trying hard enough to find where he belonged._

_Maybe she'd be right?_

_The door to her apartment was ajar._

_Brittany's heart stopped. She never left her apartment unlocked. In the past few weeks, she had gotten used to the weight of the gun behind her back. Smoothly, she pushed LT behind her and untucked her handgun from the back of her jeans. "Hey, Lucas, buddy, just stay here for a moment okay?"_

"_Why?" He asked innocently. Obviously he had seen the gun in her other hand. "I just want to check something. Okay?"_

_Nodding, he shuffled against the wall unconvinced that he should just hang outside. Brittany kicked the door open and pulled out her weapon in front of her face. Despite learning how to fire and hold the gun, she still hadn't learned everything. A hand swiped out from the side of the door before she checked and disarmed her in a second. The force of the hand startled her. The gun flipped in the air and was suddenly pointed at her. _

_Fuming eyes glared at her from behind the gun. "You haven't answered my phone calls."_

"_Greene." Brittany said his name with venom. She whispered her next words so Lucas wouldn't hear them arguing. "You broke into my apartment?" _

"_It wasn't hard."_

"_Why?"_

"_I've been trying to get in touch with you." Greene growled and clicked the safety back onto her gun before handing it back to her. She swiftly took the firearm back and tucked it away. _

"_I know."_

"_You knew?" Through his gritted teeth, Greene didn't wear his anger with much grace. "Why didn't you respond?"_

"_I've been busy."_

"_I could help you."_

"_I don't want your help." Britt bit back. "In fact, I don't know what you think is going on between us. I warned you when we met that I'd be bad for you. I don't need you. I don't want you. I can handle myself and Lucas without you around. You never gave me anything good anyway. Just walk away."_

"_Walk away?" Greene's anger was rising. "You fucking cunt. I put my neck out there by letting you use my access to databases and I let you take the kid. I could lose my fucking badge for that."_

"_But you didn't." Brittany's voice pitched higher for a second and then lowered. "And you won't. So let it go."_

"_You really were just using me."_

"_I thought I made it clear." Brittany fiercely whispered back._

"_I should-"_

"_Mr. Greene?" Lucas peeked around the corner of the door._

"_Lucas?" Britt wanted to scoop the boy up and take him away, but Greene beat her to it._

"_Hey buddy. Come here!" Greene lifted the boy up in his arms and gave a twirl in the air. "How are you doing?"_

"_Good. We're going to watch the tv because we went everrrrrrywhere today."_

"_Oh yeah?" He asked, but Greene's eyes were on Brittany._

"_Wanna watch with us?" Lucas asked innocently as Greene placed him on the ground with a pat on the head._

"_Sorry, kiddo, I was just leaving, but I'll see you very soon. Don't worry."_

"_Okay!" Lucas skipped into the living room and fumbled with the remote to the television._

_After the sounds of the tv came to life, Brittany turned back to Greene. "Don't ever come around here again."_

"_I won't. I wouldn't want to." Greene slammed the door on the way out._

_Brittany let out a ragged sigh. Her hand shook as she reached into her pocket for a pack of cigarettes. She needed something to calm her nerves. One glance to LT waiting patiently for her to join him stopped her hand. The cigarettes hit the open trashcan with a dull thud as she walked into the living room to join Lucas on the couch. Tomorrow, she would leave Lucas with Miss Patty and redouble her efforts to find his parents or wherever he came from. The malicious glint in Greene's eyes had scared her. _

_Easily, the boy slid into her side and rested his head against her. Tomorrow she would clean up the apartment. No more cigarettes, no more alcohol, and no more Strangler case until LT was in good hands – better hands than hers. _

_They fell asleep on the couch together. A rather loud knock on the door woke Brittany from a dead sleep. Lucas barely budged. Delicately, Britt lowered the child to a pillow on the couch. Santana had picked out the couch and the pillow after Brittany had decided to go with the multi-colored curtains in the apartment. Santana had muttered something about rainbow explosion and returned from class with very neutral tones for the pillows on the couch. _

_And there she was thinking about Santana again. Even with Lucas there and maybe because Lucas was there, Brittany's thoughts turned to the brunette. _

_The knocking continued. She wanted to yell that she was coming, but she didn't want to wake Lucas. "Hold on." She said right as she opened the door. Two women in pants suits were at the door looking very grumpy._

"_Are you Brittany Pierce?"_

"_Yes. Can I help you?"_

"_No. But we want to know if you are harboring a child here in unsafe conditions."_

"_What!? No!" Brittany spoke rather aggressively. The noise must have caught Lucas' attention. The boy stirred on the couch and poked his head up._

"_Britt-Britt?" He asked._

"_We'll take it from here." They pushed through her. Brittany made a move to stop them but a rough set of arms wrapped around her._

"_Thank you, officer. I'm glad we were informed of her violent behavior ahead of time." The women collected Lucas while Brittany struggled against the officer's grip, but to no avail. Lucas started crying._

"_Let me go. It's okay Lucas. I'll be right there to get you."_

"_Britt?" He asked as the woman cooed him and carried him out of the apartment. Hysterically crying, Brittany tried in vain to break free, but the officer was much too strong. _

"_Please let me go! Please!"_

"_Fire hazard. Cigarettes in the trash can. Excessive amounts of alcohol. Nothing is child proof. The environment isn't good for child development." The other woman made notes on a pad with condescending tsks and clicks with her tongue. Every word from her mouth felt like a punch to the gut because she wasn't lying. Brittany's mouth dropped as she went from room to room. Eventually her struggles turned to mere jerks against the strong arms around her and finally to nothing. She failed at everything else, why would LT be any different?_

_Feeling no more fight, the police officer relaxed his grip. Brittany's body slumped as the woman passed by. "Where are you taking him?"_

"_He should have been brought to us right away. He'll be put into the system. You'll have to go through a judge to have custody."_

"_I don't think I can handle custody. I never asked for this. I just wanted to help him. Can I see him?"_

"_Some people are…" Her eyes glanced back at Brittany's apartment. "…unfit. I can't make those decisions Miss Pierce. I suggest you find yourself a very good lawyer."_

_And they left with everything Brittany had left. The blonde crumpled to the floor and finally cried. She hadn't cried since Santana left. Even when LT died, she had felt numb. Now, she really had nothing. The hot tears burned running down her face and reopened wounds that had barely begun to heal. Lucas' face as they carried him away was everything she felt – disconnected, lost, and scared. She was so scared. _

_After awhile, Brittany finally pulled herself up from the floor. Her face itched from the dried tears and her head hurt from the crying. She needed to find herself again. She needed to get Lucas back so she could bring him home. He didn't belong in the system. _

_The words of the child services woman echoed in her mind. Find a good lawyer. _

_Fuck._

_She only knew one lawyer. Her fingers trembled as she took out her phone. In and out. In and out. Her breathing rapidly increased as she hesitated. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She couldn't do this. Santana left and Brittany had let her walk away. Now Santana would pick up the phone? Fuck. And about some little kid Santana knew nothing about? Fuck. She would hang up. Fuck. Brittany's heart moved her fingers before her head could put the phone away for good._

_Call._

_Against her ear, Brittany couldn't even hear the ringing because her heart was beating so fast. _

"_The number you have dialed is no longer in service."_

* * *

Brittany consciously neglected to tell Santana that she had attempted to call her in California for help. Her pride and the sting of the cool rejection from the automated message voice still hurt.

"What did you do, Britt?"

"Something I shouldn't have." Brittany admitted. Puck tipped the bottle of the vodka back and drank it straight up. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

_After no Santana and no word from Puckerman, Brittany calmly walked into her bathroom and slowly undressed. The blonde silently showered and changed into one of her favorite shirts and adjusted her hat. The taxi drive to the precinct took longer than usual because of the traffic, but Brittany didn't mind. Her body hummed with purpose. She would get Lucas back and she would fix everything. If she could find Lucas a good home – the right home, somehow her life would make sense again. _

_And she knew just where to start. _

"_Hey Pierce. Here for another run in with the new chief? He's not in today. Something with the mayor." One of her drinking buddies from the Grouse checked her through security at the front desk._

"_I'm actually here for someone else."_

"_Good luck, Pierce."_

"_Thanks." She winked at him as she passed through. A few other people either nodded to her or smiled pleasantly. Others still shook their head as she walked around them. They remembered the days of the Strangler and had long since gotten used to seeing her walk through the station on yet another goose chase. _

"_Give him back." Britt's hands slammed down onto Greene's desk. The blonde haired PI growled and leaned over his desk so their eyes were only a few inches apart. Greene barely reacted. He batted his eyes and moved back in his chair to casually start filing paperwork. _

"_I don't know what you're talking about."_

"_The fuck you don't. Give him back now."_

"_Who? Give who back?"_

"_Lucas. Give him back to me."_

"_Oh." Greene smirked as he swiveled back in his chair to face her. "You must mean that poor boy I found the other week. Still haven't been able to accurately I.D. him so I don't think he has a name."_

"_You bastard." Brittany's hands were shaking with rage and frustration. She knew it had been Greene, but to see him sit so nonchalantly talking about Lucas was infuriating. "Just let me have him back. He shouldn't be in the system."_

"_Oh." Greene's smile did little to mask his malicious intentions. "He won't be going into the system. I've arranged to be his guardian. After all, I did find him, and we already share a bond. The judge should grant me custody."_

"_Wh-what?" Brittany couldn't believe the words coming from Greene's mouth. "Why would you even want that?"_

"_Better me than someone like you." He said with finality and turned away to look at something on the screen of his computer._

_Britt clenched her hands into fists on his desk and shook. Greene didn't give a fuck about Lucas. This was about his hurt pride and the fact that he didn't own her like the way he wanted. He got played and wanted his revenge. So he was going to take it out on an innocent child?_

"_I'll kill you first."_

"_What's that?" Greene asked pretending not to hear her._

_The blonde's fist flew through the air and connected squarely with his chiseled jaw. The detective's body sprawled to the floor followed directly by Brittany. She leapt over the desk and knocked over the monitor, his paper work, and everything else on the desk. She tugged at his collar to pull his face closer so when she connected her fist to his face a second and a third time, his head jerked back. It took four officers to drag Brittany off him._

"_I'm pressing charges you crazy bitch! You'll regret it all."_

* * *

"_Is there any way I can win this, Puck?" Brittany asked her friend. She wore a modest outfit and had cleaned herself up. But she still felt shabby in the courthouse._

"_You attacked him in the middle of the precinct, Britt. There are dozens of witnesses and you didn't have a scratch on you."_

"_What about LT?"_

_Puck shook his head and frowned. He couldn't face his friend. In her moment of need, he would have to walk away. "I can't testify, Britt. I can't help you with anything. Macklin's handed down the orders. The department is to wash its hands of you."_

"_But what about my character statement or whatever! I have no one to speak for me! I need you!" Brittany pleaded with him._

_Every word and look from his friend made the betrayal worse. Noah hated himself for what he was going to do next. "Brittany, the department is already struggling. The new mayor is not happy. Macklin is trying to get a handle on everything and you attacked someone in my squad. I can't testify against him! I can't do anything! I wasn't even there to see it."_

"_But…Puck…I only have Missy Patty and you."_

_And now the final dagger._

"_Pat can't come, Britt."_

"_What?"_

"_Somehow she conveniently has a summons today. Something about farm animals in the apartment complex violates all sorts of laws and it just happens that today, when you would go before a judge, she's being detained."_

"_What? She's the only other person who could talk about Lucas and me and what I was trying to do for him!"_

"_Greene has more connections than I knew. I think more than anyone knew."_

"_This is dirty."_

"_I know."_

"_But what am I supposed to do?"_

"_Give the judge the truth. Speak from the heart, Britt." Noah placed a hand on her arm. "It's the place you always used to come from."_

_It was the place LT brought her back to. She nodded. "Thanks."_

"_Britt…" Noah felt awkward that he was abandoning his friend and she still thanked him. "I really want to be there."_

"_You're always there every other time. I think I can manage just once without you."_

* * *

"It didn't take long. It felt like a blur. It was both the longest and fastest two hours of my life." Brittany said. Puck took another long swig from the bottle in his hand. He didn't want to be reminded how he had abandoned his friend in her hour of need. It still left a bad taste in his mouth. "It wasn't even a hearing, but a sentencing. The judge and Greene were connected. I'm sure of it. I had to take the stand and endure an interrogation."

Santana's mouth wasn't working. Her brain had stopped working since Greene had said the word kid and now to hear about this. Her insides were turning inside out. So much guilt. So much regret.

"I don't even remember how most of it went. He just started in on me. I remember bits and pieces like the judge grilling me on Rachel's death and my personal involvement in the police department. He wanted to know how much grief counseling I had received. How many times I had seen a doctor about my moods. If I was taking medication. How my sexually active life could be healthy? When my last long term relationship was and why I split up with my ex." Brittany's eyes cautiously connected with Santana's before continuing. "He read the witness reports from the station along with character assessments from a few of the cops and detectives I had used for the Strangler case. None of the testimonies were…nice…He questioned my sanity. Granted custody to Greene. Gave him full control on the terms that I could see Lucas occasionally when Greene said I could. The only reason he didn't have me do time was a direct request from Mack. I found out later that Macklin had asked for leniency. The judge sent me to a counselor who had to send the judge reports on my progress."

"Britt…" Santana started.

But Puckerman cut her off. "And then to top it off, Macklin kicked her out. She wasn't allowed to return. It came down with enormous pressure from the mayor's office and after Macklin read about her behavior with the squad, he blew up. He was spitting fireballs for weeks even after he tossed her from the station. After Greene's display of important friends and he quickly made lots of new ones at the station and higher up with the new staff in the mayor's office." Puck knocked the bottle back again. "Some real serious shit."

"Brittany, I didn't know. I'm so sorry." Words finally came to Santana, but they felt inadequate. Completely and utterly useless for everything she missed in Brittany's life.

The PI shrugged out of Santana's grip and finally stepped out from her body and the door that had pinned her during her tale. "It's fine. I'm fine. He just always knows how to twist that dagger."

"You're not okay and what he did wasn't okay." Defensive and angered, Santana quickly jumped in to reassure her ex-girlfriend.

"No, but what I did wasn't okay either. I deserved it, but Lucas doesn't." Losing that fight had been the final nail in the coffin. Brittany bought the apartment she was living in now and moved into it. But she didn't want to talk about that, not with Santana. When they had lived together, their apartment had been their sanctuary. Everything changes. Brittany had come to terms with that, but some changes were worse than others.

"Britt, I should have been here." Santana said.

Brittany pushed her off and walked over to Puckerman. Wordlessly, the detective handed over the bottle. She walked into his apartment and plopped down on the couch.

"Wait!" Santana couldn't believe that was all Brittany had to say. "That's it? You just go to him when he summons you?"

"I try not to see him at all. He mostly asks me to watch Lucas when his sister can't babysit him. I avoided him at all costs after the fall out with the department. I saw him for the first time on the same day you came back to New York."

Puck sat on the couch next to her.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Santana shook her head. All the stares in the department from all the different officers and detectives, even the interns and secretaries, they all knew Brittany's exile. They all knew everything that had happened. How did Brittany walk in there with her head held so high? No wonder whenever the blonde walked through it looked like a fuse had been ignited and everyone was waiting for the explosion. And fucking Greene. Just the way he had stepped into Brittany on her way out knowing that she was trapped and agitated. He wanted to bait her into another altercation.

"Do you want custody of Lucas?"

Santana needed to know the answer. Even the thought of Brittany raising a child hurt. It was one of those deep pains that ached in her chest. So much had happened since she had been gone. The question must have struck a chord in the PI. Brittany sat still for a few seconds and closed her eyes as if questioning herself.

"No." She finally said. "I just want him to have a place he can call home. He shouldn't have to pay for my reckless behavior."

* * *

It was three in the afternoon and Puckerman was resting on Brittany's shoulder with his eyes closed. He had been unconscious for a few minutes now and Santana debated if she should wake him up or let him sleep off the copious amounts of alcohol he had just consumed. Brittany wasn't much better, but she was definitely still awake because Santana's senses were acutely aware of the blonde's proximity to her body.

"B…" Santana softly whispered her name.

Brittany stirred from the sleepy daze she had been falling into. Alcohol had a way of making everything a little hazy. They had been sitting on the couch, watching reruns of some old television shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Law and Order: SVU. The vodka made her head feel fuzzy and she had purposely been avoiding Santana's questioning gaze for the last two episodes. Her body subtly tensed.

"Yeah?"

"You know I'm here now. I can help you."

Brittany felt her insides churning at Santana's offer. Instinctively, she wanted to reject the offer. She had been okay and dealing with Greene and Macklin and Puck and LT for a while without anyone's help. But…obviously she hadn't been doing it well. At night when she was truly alone and the dark made her feel comfortable enough to think about herself, Brittany had wanted Santana to return and make everything better. Everything would somehow fix itself if Santana appeared back in her life. But that required an admission that she needed help and admitting to herself that she should have never let Santana walk away.

Choked, Brittany whispered back. "I know."

The couch shifted as Santana stood up and looked down at the passed out form of their mutual friend slumped against Brittany's shoulder.

"Where you going?"

"I just need some fresh air. Everything smells like drunk Puckerman in here."

"At least your shirt won't smell like him." Brittany shrugged her right shoulder up and down to show Santana the signs of drool from Puck's mouth. Their eyes stayed connected for a moment longer. "Want a smoke?"

Santana cocked her eyebrow at Britt's question.

The blonde smiled. "I don't have any cigars."

"I'll pass then."

Santana grabbed the closest jacket on her way out of Puck's back window to the fire escape. Of course it had to be Brittany's. The Latina pulled it close and tucked her arms inside as she stood there in the biting cold wintry chill. The lightest visage of Brittany's scent lingered in the worn leather of the jacket. It brought a warm flush up her cheeks to her otherwise freezing body. Did this change how she felt about Brittany?

What did she feel about Brittany?

Her thoughts bounced around, but tended to dwell on the moment they shared a kiss the other night.

Fuck.

Even when she was in California all she could think about was the blonde. She should have been here for Brittany as her best friend; as her girlfriend; as anything she needed Santana to be.

As her fucking legal counsel!

Santana knew what it was like to keep trying to fix things and to only have them fall apart over and over again. What Brittany had done was so Brittany. All she wanted to do was help and emotions got in the way. Santana had spent the past four years trying to make amends to a dead girl and an ex-girlfriend she thought she would never see again.

She pulled out her phone and let out a deep breath before finding Terry's name in her favorites. It would be early on the West Coast for Terrry's busy schedule just about noon time, but Santana knew that if her boss saw her name, Terr would take the time to pick up her phone.

The phone rang for half a second before it picked up.

"What I can do for my most lovely employee today? Ready to come home? I miss you." Terry's voice was playful this morning.

Home? Home was what Lucas needed. Home was what Brittany couldn't find anymore. Home was where Santana knew her heart would be safe. Was she ready to come home? Her heart felt torn. Where was her heart now? Where did she call home?

The answer frightened her.

"Terr, I need a favor." Santana paused and took a deep breath. "You're not going to like it."

The nature of their conversation turned fast. "I already regret a few favors I've given out recently, all of them involved you, what's the difference if I add another?"

San smiled softly over the phone. "How good of a friend is your contact in the DA's office?"

"We went through the same program. I sent you back to New York as a favor to him."

"I need his information."

"Why?"

"It's a personal thing."

An extra long pause.

"This has to do with your ex-girlfriend doesn't it?"

Santana shouldn't have been surprised that her boss would instantly know why Santana was acting strange. It was better to be truthful up front than to hide anything. "And if it does, will you say no?"

Another pause. Santana could literally feel Terry's mind going through the scenarios.

"Do you have a pen?"

Santana rifled through Brittany's leather jacket and found a pack of cigarettes in the side pocket, but in the inside pocket she found a small pad of paper. A small pencil had been attached at the top. "Thank you, Terr. I mean it."

"Please don't let me regret this."

Santana didn't know how to respond. Despite being terrible with her feelings and expressing her own desires, the Latina had never been a good liar. In fact, her personality dictated honesty to the point of brutality. Terry had been there for her for the past three years with unconditional support and a never ceasing drive to push Santana. Could Santana lie now? Would Terry regret this?

Yes.

Santana already was.

With difficulty, Santana swallowed back the thick guilt lingering in the back of her throat. "You won't."

* * *

**So big chapter. Lots of reveals. More will come of this and other things. If you've read my stuff before, you know I love connecting things and creating a much bigger picture. Thanks again for all the responses. I hope this satisfies some of your curiosity and hopefully most of you will forgive me for the ending of last chapter. I responded to almost all of the comments on my tumblr page. I was going to put my responses in my FF profile but there were just far too many! :D Honestly, your responses helped me shape the first part of this chapter from Santana's perspective. **

**I know **_**Sirens**_** is breaking into a million things going on, but I also have another idea for a one-shot. So I may write that one next. The good news is the one-shot has the feel of **_**Sirens**_**. It won't be a playtime, but it will have smut. ;)**

**I hope you all have a lovely week! :D **


	20. Chapter 20

**So when I said I would write a one shot, it turned into a monster and is MUCH bigger than a one-shot and that's why it took me so long to update. Sorry! I wanted to finish that other story first so I could once again completely dedicate myself to **_**Sirens.**_** But I'm back and a few things to clear up. **

**Yes! There will be appearances from other glee characters! Specifically I was asked about Kurt and Quinn. Both will appear. Kurt sooner than Quinn. Others will also be involved later. Second, Terry will also take on a bigger role in this part of **_**Sirens**_**, so be ready for that! :D Finally, everyone wants to take a swing at Greene. There will be a punching booth set up at the end of **_**Sirens**_** for free shots. ;)**

**But without further ribbing and light pleasantries, onto the next chapter of…**

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 20**

Santana remained outside in the cold for a few more minutes after she had written down all the contact information from Terry. Her dark eyes scanned the street below and the apartment windows across from her. How did things get so complicated? Brittany with a kid? Granted, it wasn't really her kid and she didn't really have him, but really? Everything changed. She had actually come to expect that change, but it always seemed to be so volatile and destructive in nature. She couldn't remember the last time change had been for the better. It always brought more headache, more pain, more problems, and more heartbreak. When she moved out to California, Santana had foolishly tricked herself into believing that she could stop all the feeling. But things changed out there too.

Everything changed.

Had she been so naïve to think it would stay the same? Even if Rachel hadn't died and the Strangler had never affected their lives, would she and Brittany still be together?

Bitterly, Santana had told herself 'no' for the past few years, but…

She clutched Brittany's leather jacket closer to her body. They would have changed. Everything would have changed even without that tragedy, but…Santana and Brittany would have changed together.

What was the point of wondering what would have been? That was for people who put stock in that sort of thing. Santana had always been a realist. She couldn't change the past. It would never be different.

But she could fix the life of some little boy.

Santana shrugged the jacket around her body closer, but she doubted it held the same comfort as its owner. Normally she enjoyed the freezing cold, but it was starting to flurry. She had work to do. As much as she would have loved to get bombed with Puck and even Brittany, Santana couldn't idly stand by when she knew some asshole was out there trying to hurt Brittany. She didn't care what had or hadn't passed between them in the past four years; they shared more than a few lost years. They used to share everything.

Inside the apartment, Puck hadn't moved from Brittany's shoulder. He was still sleeping off the effects of too much alcohol too early in the morning. Britt had heard the slide of the side window from the escape and was looking up at her. Her body twitched a little but she couldn't get up from Puckerman's unconscious pin. Those blue eyes sparkled even in the dim light and reflected the images of Spongebob from the television. They seemed to be seeking guidance from the brunette without quite asking for it.

Santana didn't know what to say. "It's starting to snow out there."

Brittany licked her bottom lip but her eyes didn't even glance to the window to confirm her ex-lover's statement. She took a deep breath. "San, I didn't mean to keep Lucas a secret. I just didn't know how to tell you how bad I fucked up something else..."

Santana swallowed hard for the second time in minutes. It was hard enough to admit to herself that she shouldn't have left Brittany or that she had failed to give Britt everything she had promised to provide for her when they had been so young and so in love. But to hear Brittany talk like this was almost too much. Santana was supposed to be the damaged one. A deep ache settled in the pit of her stomach. "You didn't fuck up anything, B. You did the best you could for him. And I hope…" Santana stretched for the right thing to say. "…one day you'll let me meet him."

The blonde's face changed a thousand times at Santana's final statement. She didn't know what she expected from Santana. Santana could be prone to mood swings. She had never been one to wear her heart on her sleeve. Britt remembered a time when she would know how Santana was feeling before her lover would even know. But after years, Brittany had formed a hard and distant image of her best friend and girlfriend. And yet, Santana still continued to simply amaze Brittany. Everyone thought of her as hard and cold, but Brittany knew the inner stuff. All the warmth and love Santana was capable of expressing had always just rested underneath that exterior. To reach that part of Santana, it didn't take much, all it took was patience. Brittany felt abashed that she had doubted that part of her ex-lover for even a second.

"You want to meet him?"

Santana smiled softly and leaned against the far wall. "Of course."

Their eyes stayed locked. Santana could feel her breathing hitch and increase in pace. It was the silliest moment to feel anything. Santana felt foolish and tried to quell her racing heart. Brittany had a passed out Puckerman on her body and all Santana could think of was the way Brittany used to smile at her after they'd fool around all day. Or how Brittany would guiltily confess that she had purposely seduced Santana while she was studying for class so her books would smell like sex. Or…how soft those cerulean eyes would get when she whispered 'I love you' when Santana least expected it.

"I-um-" Santana started and turned away from Brittany's eyes. She glanced to the wall behind her and rolled her eyes at herself. When she turned back, Britt was still there. "I've got a few errands I need to run for Terry."

"For Terry?" Britt asked. "I didn't think you had a firm out in New York."

"We don't." Santana answered truthfully. "But we have clients all over the place, even in New York."

"Oh." Britt glanced down at the slumbering Puck in her lap. "So you're working a few cases?"

"We did just get kicked off the Strangler case."

"With Macklin." Brittany quickly clarified with a commanding voice, as if daring her partner to even suggest they should stop searching for Rachel's killer. "We're still working this case."

And just like that Santana took a half step back. Was it too much to pray for the first time since she was young for Brittany's eyes to never steel over again. "I know, Britt. We're going to find him. We're going to make him pay."

"Yeah…" Britt whispered and cleared her throat. "Just be careful. He's still out there looking for you and he obviously wanted you to come back to New York."

"I know." A shudder ran down her back. The image of the postcard Tim had had delivered to the police station sat firmly in her mind. The Strangler had taken a particular interest in her. "I'll be careful."

"Santana…" Britt started to say. Santana turned back, but the blonde had nothing. "Just give me a call or a text later…so I know you're okay."

"Sure, B." Santana said and walked through the apartment and out of Puckerman's building. It wasn't until she was in the taxi and three blocks away that Santana realized she was still wearing Brittany's jacket. Instantly, she felt better. Like Britt was still sort of with her. She zipped the leather jacket up and pulled out her cell phone. Terry had trusted her and even gave her all the contact information for her old friend. She plugged in the phone number. It dialed for two rings.

"Hello, you've reached the office of Harry Tilt. Can I help you?"

"Yes, my name is Santana Lopez. I need to schedule an appointment."

"I can book you in March or perhaps April."

"No, I need to see him today. And I won't take no for an answer."

"Ma'am, it doesn't work like that. He is a very busy man."

"I'm sure he is. Can you tell him that I am a friend of Terry. He'll know who I'm talking about."

"Ma'am, I can't do that-"

"Just do it and if he says no then I won't bother you."

"Please hold." The woman responded curtly. She didn't enjoy being told what to do by a pushy caller, especially when she had already refused to an appointment with Harry. The line went dead for a few minutes. Santana waited patiently. A few minutes later, she returned. Santana could hear the agitation in her voice. "Mr. Tilt wants to know if you'd like to get lunch with him."

"I would be delighted. Just give me the address." Santana's mouth curved into a smile.

* * *

"Thank you for taking the time to meet with me." Santana stood as a man approached the table reserved for them. Mr. Tilt apparently had his own table here at the restaurant. She had been shown here and said he would be along shortly to join him. He was a middle age man with a charming smile, but working in the DA's office can be stressful and unrewarding. His age and the stress of the job were apparent from the wrinkles in his face and the lines around his eyes.

"Of course, Ms. Lopez." He took her hand and indicated they should sit down together. "Anything for Terry."

"Please, just call me Santana." She smiled graciously at him and took the seat across.

"You have a beautiful name, but a fierce reputation." He said as he too settled into the table. It was far too late for lunch, but Santana had already ordered a sparkling water. He saw the water on the table and motioned for the waiter to come back with some wine. "I read through some reports about your work in California and I'm impressed. I have to say that I was mildly surprised at how little effort it took to convince Terry to send you to us."

Santana continued to smile, but had it been any other time and this meeting wasn't for Brittany's sake, Santana would have tore into him on the art of decorum and the old phrase 'fuck off' or 'mind your own goddamn business', but she kept her mouth shut. "Well, Mr. Tilt, from what I understand you and Terry go way back."

"Just call me Harry and yes, we do." Harry took the wine offered to him and indicated that Santana should be poured a glass as well. "You see the Strangler case is one of the utmost importance to the city and especially to the mayor's office. This is an election year and our mayor is very keen that this mess should be sorted in a timely manner. Chief Macklin was the one who asked if I could strong-arm you to the east coast and bring you back as a consultant. I told him it was out of my jurisdiction as you should know, but when I saw who you worked for, I figured it wouldn't hurt to talk to Terry."

As much as Santana disliked being played like a pawn between Macklin, Terry, and Harold, there was one reason to thank them. Her dark eyes glanced to the leather jacket which rested on the coat rack at the front of their seating section.

Brittany was the reason she was here.

"Let's skip all the pleasantries. I'm not one for chit-chat." Santana broke off Tilt's prattling. Things needed to be fixed and they needed to be fixed now. She had a lot to make up for.

"If you'd prefer…" Harold said with a measured tone. "I assumed that you were here to speak to me on behalf of Terr."

"I'm sorry I had to use Terry's name as a way to see you, but I don't have a lot of time in New York." Santana started and felt sick as she realized how true those words could be. The end of the Strangler case meant she would go back to California. "I have a very delicate matter I wished to talk to you about."

Harold sat back and tipped his wine casually to his lips, but Santana saw the way his eyes narrowed and sharpened. He might talk a lot, but she sensed that he was quicker than he put on. "Go on."

"It has to do with a certain member of the police department. I want to start an investigation into a misuse of power, fraud, and manipulation." Santana started, but stopped when Harold waved his hand.

"Ms. Lopez-" He began and knocked back the rest of his drink. "I truly appreciate that you've come to me with this sort of information and trust. I see that, like everything Terry is, you are just as ambitious and headstrong when it comes to matters of the law."

Santana frowned openly, she didn't like where this conversation was heading.

"I fear that I work _for_ the police. To start an investigation of that kind of magnitude, especially in an election year, with a mayor I thoroughly enjoy working for, would be career and political suicide."

"I don't intend to create a scandal for you, Harry." Santana kept her voice even. It was hard to stay under control when she only had one potential ally and he was about to back out. "I just want to create some pressure on an individual. I believe it will most certainly be in your best interest if you hear me out."

Tilt motioned for another glass of wine to be poured as he contemplated the pros and cons of working with Santana. He whispered low. "I want you to write out the name on a napkin and slide it over to me."

Trying not to roll her eyes, Santana took out a pen from her purse. This wasn't a spy game or some secret mission. She wanted to take Greene down and this man was making it seem like she was trying to assassinate the Queen of England.

_Derek Greene_

Harold took the napkin and turned it over a few times in his hands before he tucked it inside the pocket of his jacket. "You know…I've had a very small and very quiet case open for this name for a few years when he was in vice. Things seem to move around him very easily like he's in a coating of oil or grease – nothing ever sticks to him and he just slides through wherever he wants."

Santana grimaced at the image. Really? That's how Tilt wanted to describe Greene? Santana didn't want to think of that asshole sliding or slithering anywhere or how slick he was.

"So you're interested in assisting me?"

"I didn't say that." Harold finished his second glass of wine just as Santana took the first few sips of her own. "I said that I've had an interest in this name."

"So…?" Santana was growing impatient.

"I can give you the names of a few people you may want to talk to about him. He has quite a few big names backing him up, Ms. Lopez. I have to warn you that this is not a task to be taken lightly and I don't want to be implicated in any way."

"What are you saying?"

"Is it really worth it? I don't know what he's done to you, but you have to be willing to get quite dirty to want to tangle with this sort of man. He has deep connections within the NYPD. I mean very deep. Are you willing to go there?"

Santana glanced back to the leather jacket hanging.

"Yes."

"I'll get you in contact with one of his old partners down in vice." Tilt pulled out his planner and tore out a piece of paper in the back. He scribbled down a name and a number. "Look, Ms. Lopez, I don't have to tell you that this goes against most sanctions and mandates from the mayor's office. Don't make me regret this."

Again, Santana felt the bile rise in her throat as she pushed down the sick feeling in her stomach. "You won't. And thank you, Harry. I'll put in a good word with for you with Terry." Santana stood up and shook his hand.

"You don't want to stay for dinner?"

"I've got a few things to check into." Santana raised the paper in her hand and pulled on Brittany's jacket.

"I'm sure I'll hear from you soon, Ms. Lopez."

"You will."

* * *

"Bad idea! Bad idea!"

"Best idea!"

"No, bad idea."

"Pssssh like you know the difference between the two."

"Not cool." Brittany swatted at Puckerman's hand and tried to grab his phone away from him, but it was already dialing. "Give me that! You shouldn't have that! Shit!"

He battled off the PI as he waited for the receiver to pick up. "Hey!"

"Bad idea…" Brittany mumbled and sat back in the booth of the Ruffed Grouse. One of the bartenders who knew Puckerman from his officer days dropped off another round of shots on the table. Any other night, Brittany would have been excited for the extra and above all free alcohol, but Puck was already plastered from his private session with Vlad and Stoli's earlier in the day. He didn't need to start dinner at the Grouse, but he had been unmanageable.

And now he was calling Jocelyn, the woman he was dating. The woman he wasn't supposed to be dating on a high profile case like the Strangler. Ultimately, the woman who got him kicked off the biggest case he had ever been the lead on.

Tonight would be a shit show.

Fuck it. Brittany took one of the shots on the tray and knocked it all the way back. It burned. Her eyes glanced over to the jacket Santana had left in Puck's apartment. In her mind, Britt wanted to believe that Santana had done it on purpose.

But…

Why wasn't she with them now? Why couldn't they just be comfortable around each other? Why couldn't she have Santana sitting next to her so they could both make fun of Puck together?

"No! I want to see you too, baby." Puck slurred into the phone.

Great. Not only was he demoted today. He was going to lose his girlfriend. Perfect!

"You'll come over?" Puck smiled and threw Brittany a huge thumbs up from across the booth. Britt shook her head. It kept getting better.

"I'll see you soon!" He pressed end on his phone and gave Brittany the biggest and drunkest smile ever. "She's going to come over when she gets off work in ten minutes."

"Awesome." Brittany said with a fake smile. This was going to be a shit show.

"I can't wait to tell her the big news about my demotion!" Puck said with such excitement in his voice; Brittany had no idea if he was being serious or sarcastic.

"Super." She responded with even less enthusiasm. "Here." She passed him another shot from the tray and took one herself. They made eye contact and counted to three before they took the shot together.

"Best night ever!"

* * *

It was already seven at night and Santana felt like she was spinning her wheels. She had found Greene's old partner and was immediately told to fuck off. She wasn't surprised, but the lawyer had hoped for a more promising lead than a simple fuck off from Tilt's contact. What kind of shit lead was that? She was beginning to think that Harold Tilt talked a bigger game than he himself was willing to commit to. All she wanted was a place to start, but so far it felt like she had made no progress.

She pulled the jacket around her body closer. It was steadily snowing now. Cold and frustrated, Santana stood surrounded by the silently falling snow flakes on the side of the street. She dug around the pockets for her phone, but found one of Brittany's cigarette packs. For a second, she contemplated lighting one up.

Fucking Puckerman.

She tossed the pack into the nearest wastebasket. Puck definitely had to be the one who got Brittany smoking. Asshole. She wouldn't leave Brittany to listen to that knucklehead again. The thought passed without hesitation until Santana realized that once again she was thinking of Brittany and the future. It needed to stop. They needed to keep it simple and focused. Kissing her had been…

Wonderful. Nostalgic. Sad. Exciting. Regretful. A Mistake.

Finally, Santana felt the phone.

_I'm still running errands, B. Puckerman still asleep?_

She sent the text and waited for a response.

* * *

"No! No! No! Come on!" Brittany was shouting with the accompaniment of most of the patrons of the Grouse. Everyone squeezed into the booth Britt and Puck had been sharing.

"Go! Go! Get it, Pierce!" A few of the patrons in the booth were screaming encouragements into her ears rather loudly, but she didn't notice. She was too busy concentrating on her task. The quarter she kept trying to bounce kept hitting the wooden table surface and landing lifeless onto the tabletop with barely any air. In the meantime, the other quarter and shot glass was effortlessly moving from one player to the other. It seemed they had no problem bouncing their quarter into the shot glass and passing it to the next person. Britt hadn't gotten the quarter into the glass once since they started playing.

It was round five.

"Fuck, Pierce, if I knew you were this bad at quarters I would have been able to make back all the money I lost to you in pool and then some!" One of the patrons Britt regularly played against was laughing at her. She was growling and slamming the quarter down on the table to no avail.

She could sense the other glass coming closer. The quarter once again bounced ineffectively onto the tabletop and suddenly the group was cheering and laughing.

Britt looked up and noticed the long haired brunette beauty next to her was high-fiving everyone around her. Jocelyn's bright eyes were a little glazed from drinking and sparkling as she held out her shot glass. The quarter inside shook against the glass and sounded out. Everyone thought it was hilarious.

"Fucking Jocelyn and her fucking quarter. Give it to me!" Brittany had lost…again. She took the offered glass and stacked it onto the table upside down and then stacked her own glass on top. She only got two chances to flip a quarter into the top part of the tower or she would have to take another shot.

She did not need another shot.

The Grouse was already swimming and her head swirled with all the noises and people. Puckerman was roaring and laughing.

"Come on, Pierce. We all know you're going to miss so you might as well take your shot now." He shook a filled glass in his hand and offered it to her.

"No! I can do it!" Why wouldn't the quarters bounce? She was the queen at drinking games and she was getting schooled by Puckerman's news reporter girlfriend. Britt had been positive, without a doubt, that Jocelyn had been on her way to the Grouse to break up with Puck and there would be tears and crying. Instead, Jocelyn arrived and informed Puck that he was drunk and that she wouldn't be too far behind. She was a beast. And killing Brittany at every game they played.

Concentrate!

The blonde's blue eyes went in and out of focus on the image of George Washington. His forehead was so big. So big that it should bounce off a table! Everyone else was doing it! Why couldn't her George take flight?

She hit it against the table and it rolled away. It didn't even bounce. "Fuck you, George! Fuck you!"

"No need to yell at me." The actual police officer named George said a few places down from Britt.

"Shhh, other George, you're about to mess me up!"

"You're already messed up." Joce said with a smirk on her face and took the shot glass from Puck's hand. "Here, I'll even drink it with you."

Britt was trying so hard to land the quarter in the top part of the glass tower that when she went to bounce her second quarter, she completely missed the table and threw it into her lap.

"Ooops, looks like you're drinking _again_." Puck teased and handed her the filled shot. Everyone else around the table started to pass around the empty glasses to reset the game.

"I got it." Joce winked at Brittany and reached down into the PI's lap for the discarded quarter. With her head bent, Brittany shot Puck a look over his girlfriend's hair.

"You seeing this?" She teased him back.

"Hey! I said I dibs her and no steals!" Puck shouted and pulled Jocelyn from Brittany's lap. The news reporter didn't mind. She sat up in his lap and held the quarter up for the table to see.

"Got it! Let's play again."

"Ugggh." Brittany moaned, but it was better than dealing with depressed Puckerman. At least Jocelyn wasn't the worst girlfriend he'd ever dated. Next to her, in Santana's jacket, her phone buzzed with a text message, but she didn't notice it.

* * *

After a few minutes in the freezing cold, Santana realized that Britt wasn't going to text her back. She probably fell asleep with Puck at his apartment.

Shit.

She bounced up and down in the cold trying to stay warm in the steady falling snow. She should just give it up for the night and go back to her hotel or back to Puck's place. He would still be a mess.

Her phone buzzed. It was a blocked number.

"Hello?"

"Yeah. Are you Lopez?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"I'm someone who might be able to help you with your goose hunt."

"What do you mean?"

"You've been the one asking about Greene, right?"

"Yes…"

"Can I meet you?"

"Yes. Where?"

* * *

"Damn, Brittany. I had no idea you were such a badass!"

"Nah, you should hear about the one time we decided we'd go bar hoping with sleds and we found a stray dog. Best night ever." Puck was laughing and passing Brittany another shot and a half full stein of beer.

"On the count of three." Brittany said to shut Puck up. She was holding the shot glass above the beer. Joce and Puck held their glasses the same way. "One. Two. Three."

At the same time, they dropped their shots of whiskey into the beer and started to chug. Once again, Jocelyn was the first to finish her drink. The reporter slammed her beer down onto the table with a great big smile. Britt finished hers only a second later. Puck lagged behind after them before he finally set his beer glass down.

"Damn, boy, you're getting out drank by your girlfriend and by me. What happened? You used to be the champ, but looks like you might be getting old after all." Brittany teased him.

Joce laughed and put up her hand for high-five with the PI. "Girl power. Oh yeah."

"Oh fuck yeah." Britt said with a laugh before she rubbed Puck's arm. "It could be worse."

"Lost my case. And now I'm losing to everyone at drinking. I'm not sure how it could be worse." He muttered and played with the emptying beer stein.

"Santana could be here making fun of you too?" Britt said without thinking. "Oh shit. Santana. I'll be back."

Brittany grabbed Santana's jacket and put her hands through the sleeves as she stumbled through the Ruffed Grouse toward the entrance. A few officers smiled or tipped their hats to her as she passed. It was strange how a few rounds of brews could change a person's opinion about anything. At the moment, everyone at the Grouse was treating her like a lost friend. It felt nice. Maybe if Puckerman had more bad days like today, she'd be welcome back with open arms again.

Inside Santana's jacket, Brittany pulled out her phone. One message.

_I'm still running errands, B. Puckerman still asleep?_

"Ha!" Santana was hilarious. Was Puck asleep? Fuck no. They had been drinking for like…ever. And where the fuck was she?

This was unacceptable. They were supposed to be celebrating Puck's demotion and Santana was running errands? What was she? An errand-girl? Fuck that.

Brittany hit call.

"Britt?"

"Where the fuck are you?" Brittany asked forcefully as she was still channeling her inner thoughts. It was hard to distinguish between the inner thoughts and the outer ones.

Surprised, Santana said slowly. "Around. I was just about to head back to Puckerman's place…_where are you_?"

"Phhf. We blew his place awhile ago. We're at the Grouse doing shots and stuff and you're not here. Why?"

"I was checking up on a few things. You guys are good then?"

"Yeah. We're great. Puck's only pretending to be half as depressed as he's going to be tomorrow. He's going to puke for hours."

"Good…" Santana said slowly. Obviously everyone was tanked. It was fine. She didn't know what she expected, so she didn't know why she suddenly felt disappointed. "I guess I'll catch up with you two tomorrow."

"Are you kidding? You're seriously going to bail on us? Puck's celebrating. You have to be here."

"I'm obviously not at the same level. I'll just see you tomorrow."

"Fine, Santana. It's not like you've been here to celebrate anything else with us."

Brittany hit the end button and shoved the phone back into her pocket. That had been dumb. Brittany fiddled with the zipper of Santana's jacket for a few more minutes before she finally groaned and walked back into the Grouse. Why couldn't she just come by and have a few drinks with them?

* * *

"Uh-huh." Brittany shook her head with the biggest grin on her face. Her eyes were sparkling under the influence of large amounts of alcohol and she was swaying back and forth in the booth. Puck was barely able to keep himself upright and was mostly leaning on Jocelyn's shoulder for support. "If we play truth or dare, he'll kill me."

"Who?" Joce teased. "Noah? He'll be fine."

"Trust me, I've played this game with his girlfriends' before and it never ends well."

"We'll just play truth then…why has it always ended so poorly?"

Brittany narrowed her eyes. She knew that Jocelyn was still more sober than she was, but it was hard to tell if the reporter was being sincere. Oh well, Puck wasn't really fun anymore since he was pretty much passed out. "Fine. We can play truth. And the reason I'm not allowed to play games with his girls is because most of them have a little bi-curiosity. Since I'm an investigator, I have no problem offering my services for them to figure out which way they swing."

"Naughty."

"Yes, she is. No talkie with her anymore." Puck slurred on Jocelyn's shoulder.

Both women laughed. Brittany shrugged when she realized Joce was waiting for her to take her turn. "I don't have one. I'm not very good at asking questions. I normally find things out my own way."

"So I get a free question?"

"Sure."

"What's up with you and the lawyer?" Jocelyn raised her brows.

Brittany didn't know how to react to the question. She had hung up on Santana a few seconds ago. Or was it minutes? She couldn't quite remember; Brittany did however feel a sense of guilt. She was always messing up when it came to her and Santana.

"I-we-"

"I know you two used to date."

"Yeah. We lived together. And we did everything together, but stuff got in the way."

"And now? I see that you're here and she's not. I thought she's like Puck's best friend."

"Well yes, but really I am. Santana hasn't been around in years so it's just weird sometimes cause Puck and I got used to doing everything together without her."

"So she's not coming?"

"No, I think I might have made her feel unwelcome."

"Oh. I wanted to get to talk to her more. She seems fascinating."

"She is."

"But you two aren't…"

"No. But…"

"But you want to be?" Jocelyn prodded with an encouraging smile. She ignored the way Puck was trying to get her attention. She didn't have to be a reporter to know that this was sensitive subject for everyone at the table including the absent lawyer, but she was curious. Besides, her drunken boyfriend had mentioned her a few times during the night.

Brittany didn't answer.

Feeling out of place, Jocelyn changed the subject. "Alright, so I get that you used to be best friends, all of you. But what was Noah talking about when he said Santana was the absolute scariest girlfriend. I don't think he was talking about you. I thought she was gay."

"Oh she's gay. In fact, I have this whole theory about how Puck was one of the reasons she started to realize how gay she was. I mean, he did use to have this terrible looking mohawk on his head and then after that she dated this kid with longish blonde hair that was always messy before we got together. It just made sense that she would eventually move on to longer hair. Therefore, girls. Duh."

Jocelyn snorted into her beer. "A mohawk?"

A voice broke into their conversation. "Oh yeah. And the worst kind. It looked like a dead squirrel had been stapled to his head."

"Santana?" Brittany looked up from her beer. The brunette stood above their table with Britttany's leather jacket on and the same outfit she had left Puck's apartment in. Something in the Latina's eyes made Brittany pause. She looked worn out and tired. What had she been doing all day for this Terry? Then she remembered the last time she had talked to her. Shit. "I thought you weren't coming."

"I wasn't going to, but I didn't want to miss out on any of the fun."

"Join us." Jocelyn said politely trying to break the tension between the other two women.

Puck roused himself from the nap he had been taking. "Tana, you came back! We were celebrating my demotion. It's been the best demotion ever. There was drinking and drinking and Jocelyn came! Jocelyn, this is Santana. Santana, Jocelyn. Now everyone can make out with Ladykiller since they were about to start truth or dare. You know how that goes…"

"I do…" Santana said with a small smile playing at the edges of her mouth, but allowed Puck to continue.

"Annnnnnnd now we have to change our trivia team name for the night."

"What?" Santana glanced to Jocelyn and Brittany. Both women were giggling at Puck. "I didn't know the Grouse did trivia nights."

"They don't…" Brittany giggled hysterically. "But I told Puck we were on a team so he would start calling us PB&J."

"Puck, Britt, and Jocelyn!" Puck yelled in favor of the nickname.

Santana frowned. "Okay, you are cut off and going home with Jelly. I am going to take Butter over here, okay, Peanut?"

"Who you calling peanut?" Puck slurred even more as he tried to steady himself. Jocelyn was having a difficult time holding him up.

"You." Santana glanced over to some officers at the bar. "Can you help these two out of here and call a cab? They can have the one I came here in. I'll need another one for the PI."

The police officers shrugged and walked over to lift Puck up from underneath the arms. Another one offered Jocelyn his arm and escorted her from the bar. Once the two lovebirds were gone from the Grouse, Santana finally turned around to Brittany. The PI struggled to appear sober, but her act wasn't fooling anyone.

"I didn't think you'd come." Brittany said.

"Why?" Santana knew exactly why. But she wanted Brittany to say it. Part of her needed to hear how she had abandoned the love of her life and her best friend when she left the city.

But Brittany disappointed. The blonde PI shoved the yellow beanie further down on her head. "Why did you send Jelly and Peanut away? We were having fun."

"You're drunk, Britt. Let me take you home."

"I know what I am, Santana." Brittany looked back up.

All Santana could recall was the way Brittany declared herself an absolute fuck-up earlier that day. She knew Brittany wasn't talking about how drunk she was. Annoyed with the pity party Brittany had been throwing herself all day, Santana bent down over the table. Her movements weren't rushed, but they were far too fast for an inebriated woman to stop. Before Brittany could prevent her, Santana's left hand cupped the underside of her ex-lover's face and tilted her head up so those blue eyes could only meet hers. "Do you? Do you know, Britt?"

Embarrassed by the sudden attention Santana was placing on her, Brittany felt her face heat. Not so confident or sullen, Brittany ventured the answer. "Yes…" But it sounded more like a question than an answer.

Santana's finger curled under Britt's chin and tilted her head even further up. "Do you? Because I know who I see when I look into your eyes."

Brittany's body froze at Santana's tone of voice. She hadn't had to examine herself or her actions in so long, that she felt defensive. After LT was taken away, Brittany knew that she would just keep looking for the Strangler and…that was it. She didn't have to define herself or defend her actions anymore because she had no one to answer to – not even herself.

"You're better than this. Let me take you home." Santana whispered softly. Her stomach twisted seeing the woman she had loved more than anything like this. She remembered the bottles and the mess in Britt's apartment. She might have cleaned it, but change took time.

The blonde sighed and looked down at the table around them. "I think I'm drunk." Brittany pulled back from Santana's grasp to break the thick tension between them. For a moment she lost herself. Puck and Jocelyn were gone. The bar was spinning around her and all she could see was Santana. Why should she be surprised? It had been foolish to hang up on her earlier. It wasn't Santana's fault that she had been in California for the past four years when Brittany had been the one to push her away.

Britt missed how comforting that smile could be. It was easy to want to fall back into her. "Can you take me home?"

"Sure, Britt. I'd love to." Santana said with a soft smile. The blonde struggled to find purchase on the booth seat as she pushed up to stand. It was much harder than she anticipated, but even as she lost her balance, she felt Santana's encouraging hand to steady her upright. For a moment, she wanted to push back, but she allowed her ex-girlfriend to help her stand. Santana glanced down at her own jacket which Brittany must have been wearing all day. A stray thought crossed her mind that they should exchange back, but even though her head told her to say it, her heart stayed her words. Besides, she didn't know what to say as she saw Brittany put her arms through the sleeves. Words were escaping her. But her fingers moved unconsciously as she fit the zipper into its counterpart and pulled it up for Brittany. The blonde didn't move, but allowed Santana to take care of her.

* * *

They spent the taxi ride mostly in silence since Santana sat up in the cab and Brittany had to ride in the backseat. Something about not trusting drunk girls together, the driver had explained it to them, but Santana just thought the guy was a little strange. As they approached Brittany's apartment, Santana pulled Brittany closer to her, but the blonde playfully resisted.

"Come here." Santana whispered trying to keep her voice down. But Brittany had wormed her way out of the Latina's grasp yet again and was prancing a few steps in front of her. "I need your keys to the apartment."

"Why?" Brittany asked with a smirk and flashed her partner a smile right before she tipped her hat.

"Because I don't have the keys to your apartment."

"Sucks to be you." Britt teased.

"Ugh. No, it sucks to be you. You're going to sleep in the hallway if you don't give them to me."

Brittany jingled a set of keys in her hands above her head and twirled around. "Nah. I don't think you'd leave me out here by myself."

"Don't tempt me. I will totally leave your drunk ass out here."

"You wouldn't." Brittany said with a wink as she tossed the keys back to Santana. But before she could catch them in the air, Brittany had already turned the knob to her unlocked apartment. Confused, Santana glanced down to the keys in her hand. What the hell? Didn't Brittany ever lock her door?

"Britt? How did you do that?" She asked and stepped inside. The blonde was already stumbling down the foyer toward the living room. Santana knew what that meant. She would only have a few minutes to act before the PI would pass out and remain motionless on the couch for the next several hours until the alcohol wore off and she fell asleep. "Britt! Don't go in there! Show me your room. I never saw it before."

Brittany stopped in her tracks and slowly turned around. For a moment, Santana was unsure what the blonde would do, but she slowly walked back. "You just want me to come back to you…"

"I mostly didn't want you to sleep on the couch." Santana admitted as Brittany stopped a foot away from her. The PI held up the wall. Her body sagged against it and her yellow beanie tilted to the side.

"Where do you want me to sleep?" The blonde eyes sparkled with hidden meaning.

It was like they were seventeen again and in the choir room at McKinley High, Santana's body instinctively clenched. She knew those eyes. It was like all the air in Brittany's apartment instantly vanished and Santana could hardly breathe much less respond to the thick tension that now connected their bodies. The foot or so of space that separated them seemed paltry to the look in Brittany's eyes. Santana tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She hadn't been drinking. She hadn't been doing anything. She had wanted to bring Brittany home so she would know she was safe and not drunk and lying in the snow somewhere.

This was not what she signed up for.

Yet, her whole body responded to that stare and the insinuation hiding not so stealthily in Brittany's gaze.

Scratchy, Santana barely got the words out. "In your bed."

"In my bed? That's it?" Brittany took a step forward and readjusted the beanie on her head. Not that it helped much. It only tilted in the opposite direction. Her hair was a mess and clinging to the wall from static and yet, she still managed to look sexy. "Just like this?"

"You should probably change your clothes and take off that hat."

Brittany's fingers fumbled with the zipper to Santana's jacket that she had been wearing all day. The zipper had caught and she couldn't quite get the angle to pull it down. Just as she had zipped the jacket up at the Grouse, Santana tugged the zipper the opposite way to release the blonde. But Britt didn't step back or pull her arms from the sleeves; instead she took a step forward into Santana's body. Those blue eyes were gazing down into Santana's again and the brunette couldn't move. Once again, her body failed her as Brittany's hands ran up and down the sleeves of the jacket she had been wearing all day. Without releasing Santana's gaze, Brittany whispered. "I like seeing this on you. Reminds me of how we used to swap clothes all the time."

"Britt…" Santana warned, but could do little to help the way her body was drawn further into Britt's.

"Why don't we do this?" Britt whispered against the collar of the jacket Santana was wearing.

"You're drunk, Britt."

"So are you." The blonde quickly responded.

This time the smile she flashed Brittany was sad and regretful. "I'm not."

"Pretend to be?" The smile she flashed Santana was so earnest and innocent, it made Santana's smile brighten just a little. Instead of answering, the Latina took the yellow beanie from Brittany's head and pulled it off.

"Come on, B. It's time for bed."

The blonde nodded and released her hold on Santana as she walked into her bedroom. She threw clothes over her head and into a pile in the corner. She grabbed an old t-shirt from her drawer and threw it over her upper torso and consciously opted to not wearing any pants.

"Need any water or Advil?" Santana asked as Brittany moved around doing her drunken ritual. The blonde nodded a clear 'no' as she came back around to where Santana was standing. For a moment, they said nothing else to each other. Santana was sure that while drunk, Brittany wasn't going to puke or be in danger. It was time to leave. "I'll see you tomorrow, Britt. We still have some leads to follow."

Britt nodded, but didn't turn around to her bed. She still stood there gazing into Santana's eyes. For a moment, the brunette almost believed her drunken partner was lucid.

"Tomorrow, okay?" Santana cleared her throat and went to turn, assuming Brittany would go to sleep. She wasn't prepared for her ex-lover to grab onto her wrist and pull her back. They were once again standing face-to-face. Their eyes connected and their bodies forced together.

"Santana, I want to make something very clear." Brittany's body pressed closer. Perhaps it was the way Brittany's bright blue eyes held her mesmerized or the way Santana's body seemed to short-circuit whenever the blonde was near, but the usually quick-witted and sharp tongue lawyer had no words. She could feel Brittany's body and every word touch her lips even though a foot of separation kept them apart. Santana didn't know how Britt could make anything clear when her head was always spinning in proximity of the blonde. Tenderly, Brittany's mouth opened and her chin tilted forward. The moment seemed to prolong, but it couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds. Yet Santana felt as if her heart had beaten a thousand times between Brittany's words. "I want you. I've always wanted you and no matter how far the distance between us, you are always the one person who keeps me grounded. You are the one person who's always made sense. And this hasn't been the first time I've waited for you. I've gotten pretty good at it because…" Brittany took another breath. "I know you're worth it and what we had will never been replaced. I know it's not the right time. I know there will probably never be a time, but I still love you."

Santana's chest caved in. Every time her heart beat it felt like a hammer being dropped on an anvil. Her face flushed hot and then cold and then hot again. She could barely think much less react to Brittany's confession. Her mouth opened and she didn't know what she wanted to say or if she could express everything Brittany made her feel. Or even confront how fucked up their lives were. But this was Brittany. Her Brittany.

"I'm drunk. I know. Good night, Tan." Brittany said. She released her ex-girlfriend and climbed into bed without hesitation or a passing thought.

Santana stood there stunned and unable to move. Only when Brittany had turned on her side away from her, did Santana finally find the ability to speak again. "Brittany? Wait."

No answer.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. That was unfair. All that and Brittany was asleep? How could she even react to that kind of confession? Why was Brittany always the one who understood and articulated her emotions the best? Why couldn't she even grasp what had just happened?

Santana glanced down at the yellow beanie in her hand and repeatedly told herself that Brittany was drunk and had no idea what she had even said. She needed to leave. Her body felt strange, but it was really the ache in her chest which Santana felt the most. With shaking hands, Santana folded the yellow beanie in her hands and gently placed it on Brittany's night stand. She pulled the covers up over Brittany's shoulders and tucked her in. But hesitated as Brittany's words poured over her. _Love. _The word echoed over and over again in her head. Slowly, Santana brushed back a strand of Britt's golden hair from her face.

Britt was drunk. And Santana needed to leave.

* * *

Throughout the entire taxi drive home, Santana struggled with herself in the backseat. A few times she opened her mouth to tell the driver to turn around, but then ended up backing down.

Britt was drunk. Britt was drunk.

Her insides twisted as they replayed her partner's words over and over again. Why did it have to get so complicated? Why did it feel so simple when Brittany's eyes were only looking at hers?

Santana fumbled with the keycard to her hotel room. Fuck this. Why did she leave Brittany? She would grab a change of clothes and head back to Britt's apartment. She'd sleep on the couch and make sure the PI was alright in the morning. Before she could open her door, she heard the latch on the inside lift. The sound made her freeze. And before she could insert her card into the slot, the door opened.

A voice beckoned her. "Come in, Ms. Lopez, I've been expecting you."

Quickly, Santana glanced around for her police detail and didn't see anyone in the hallway.

The voice must have recognized her fear and flicked on the light. Now, Santana could clearly see who stood in her room. His figure wasn't hard to identify, but it was Greene's flashing eyes. "Come in. I let myself in earlier. I've already done a thorough check of your room for any danger."

"What are you doing here? And where's my detail?" Danger. Her entire body tensed. Her hair stood on edge, but she took a few steps forward into her hotel room to prove she wouldn't be so easily intimidated.

"I told them I was covering you for the night." Greene took an unnecessary step forward into Santana's body. She inched back. "I don't know if you've heard yet, but since Puckerman's been reassigned, I've been bumped to lead detective on the Strangler case."

"Congratulations, detective." Santana had been in bad situations before. She had known overly aggressive bosses and customers when she worked at the sports bar for two weeks. But she also knew the difference between sexual advances, drunken ones, and the feeling of imminent danger. Every bone in her body ached to flee, she needed to leave now. The kind of violence in Greene's eyes was different; his was not a threat, but an actual promise. She needed to be cautious. "I hadn't heard of your assignment. I'm sure the department will benefit from your expertise and knowledge."

"I'd like to think they already are benefitting from my leadership. You see-" He took another step forward; Santana's body instinctively pulled back closer to the door. "-I have a few theories and different angles I think we, as a team, should be investigating."

Santana needed to keep him talking. He was the sort of person who probably loved to hear himself speak. It would also give her more time to inch back to the hallway. She could lose her heels and make a break for it down the stairs. All she needed to do was keep him talking. "Such as?"

"Such as the ties between yourself and the Strangler. How is it that he's killed again and you're still breathing? I find that most odd in a case like this."

"How so?" Santana could feel his hot invasive breath on her face, but she forced herself not to react. She refused to give him the satisfaction.

"If I were the killer, I would have had ample opportunity to kill you. You and Pierce aren't the most secretive with your coming and go-ings. In fact, I don't even know if he wants to kill you. So I'm pulling most of the security away from your detail. You've definitely attracted interest, Ms. Lopez, but I can't say it's all from the Strangler."

"From whom?" Santana hated the way he darted around saying anything, but implied everything.

"Oh, lots of people, Ms. Lopez. I find you a very interesting type of person."

"Unfortunately, I'm not interesting or very _interested_." Santana attempted to chide him on his personal space invasion. It worked for most men, especially if they knew she was gay.

"Ha. Trust me, the feeling is mutual." Greene smirked. It was one of the most disturbing faces Santana had ever seen. The smirk twisted and it was like watching evil emerge from the darkest pit of human nature. He switched tactics even faster than she did. "You know she was an absolute wreck after you left. You should have seen it. I'm sure you would have been proud. It definitely takes a certain sort of person to leave someone the way you did. I mean, I only came in after the fact, but someone would have to be blind not to see the way she still carried you around. It was pathetic. She was so vulnerable. So easy to manipulate."

"Stop…" Santana whispered. She didn't want to hear this – not from him. Not ever.

But he didn't. "I wonder how vulnerable you were or perhaps still are. It's hard to protect all of our weaknesses especially when we have so many people paying attention to us."

She couldn't stand listening to him talk about Brittany like this. Santana clung to Greene's words to keep them away from his ex-girlfriend. His words caught her. Greene knew she was investigating him. "Are you paying attention?"

"Of course." He cut her question off before she could complete the words. "I have to be. I am lead investigator. But I guess the real question, Ms. Lopez, is how interested are you?"

"What do you mean?" Her back scraped along the door frame of her hotel room. If she turned now, she could make a break for the end of the hallway. It would be her only chance. But her feet remained firmly planted.

"You're only as interesting as how interested you are, Ms. Lopez." Greene said and took one more step into the brunette's body.

Santana didn't flinch back, but her skin crawl with repulsion. He was trying to be cryptic and succeeding. Except Santana knew what a threat sounded like. This was clearly a threat. He wanted her to stop investigating him. That much was obvious. "I see…"

"No." He took one more step into her. His face was practically in hers. "Let me spell it out. Stay the fuck out of anything between me and Pierce. Or you'll regret getting tangled up with me more than she did."

Santana held his gaze, unwilling to back down from him even if her entire body was screaming to run. He lingered longer than social decorum would allow any normal or pleasant conversation. Not that this interaction could be categorized as either. When he finally passed by her, Santana waited until she could no longer see him down the hallway before she slammed the door to her hotel room shut.

Frantic to feel control, she flipped every lock on the door and switched the latch at the top so the room could only be opened from the inside. But there were only three locks on the door. It wasn't enough to feel safe. Fuck she hadn't felt safe since she landed in New York. Santana's fist hit the solid metal of the door. She hit it again and again just to feel something – just to overcome the frustration and helplessness Greene had made her feel.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Her fist pounded the metal with every word uttered from her mouth. Nothing made it feel better.

She felt so dirty – so violated. Her body was shaking as her fist stopped slamming against the door and stilled. How could Brittany have ever let him touch her? How could she have ever gotten involved with a prick like Greene? It was her fault. Greene was right. She should have never left.

Still disturbed and shaking, Santana pushed her frame from the door and staggered through her hotel room to the bathroom. She needed to feel in control again. New towels hung on the racks. She grabbed one and threw it on the ground. The hot water felt so good against her skin. But no matter how hard she scrubbed or how much soap she used, Santana couldn't clean away how terrible Greene had made her feel. Or how he must have made Brittany feel. That was the worst – to think about him pulling these dirty tactics on her.

That bastard was going to pay.

* * *

**Thanks again for all the messages, alerts, and reviews. **

**I started posting that new story/6-shot. It's called **_**Is it a Crime?**_** I like to think of it as the love child of **_**Sirens**_** and **_**LT:P-EYE.**_** So if you're interested in some fun, romantic danger, and lots of cameos from glee characters, definitely check it out. Chapter 2 will be up very shortly. :D**

**As for **_**Sirens**_**, shit's about to hit the fan. :D Have a lovely week!**


	21. Chapter 21

**The reviews for the last chapter were incredible. Thank you to everyone who takes the time to write such thoughtful and engaging messages. I appreciate them all! I'd like to also thank all my fellow writers, many of whom I've been connecting with on tumblr and messaging. This fandom truly is the best. :D **

**Now onto the shit hitting the fan…**

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 21**

Maybe she deserved the shit day she had yesterday. Maybe it had four years of karmic power behind it and maybe the karmic nature of its anger stretched even further than four years spent in California. But when Santana Lopez woke up, she swore there would be no more. Maybe Greene's threat and hotel invasion were more than a wake-up call. If she had been on a mission the day before, today, Santana wanted to stop for no one and nothing. Greene had caught her by surprise.

More than surprise.

Santana had felt more than a cold chill run down her spine at his unwelcome presence in her hotel room. He had shaken her.

Sleep had been hard to come by and the fleeting moments she had contemplated Brittany's drunken confessions were thrown into a harsher light the next morning. Brittany would wait for her? She would wait for her in a drunken stupor and then tell her feelings that Santana could barely process much less respond to, before falling asleep? The lawyer was one hundred percent done with the day before it even started.

Fuck Greene. Fuck Brittany. Fuck New York. Fuck the Strangler. She was sick of being fucked over.

She showered again in the morning, still unable to wash the stench from Greene off her body. It didn't help. It was early in the morning. She felt restless and ill at ease. She sat at her computer and debated if she wanted to do some work for Terry. However, thoughts of how easily Greene had slithered his way into her hotel room and the way he seemed so comfortable threatening not only her, but Brittany, invaded.

The computer screen blinked at her.

Fuck this.

* * *

Even in the early morning, most shop keepers were around their stores. They ran their own businesses and had money to make. It was a good thing too since she couldn't stay cooped up in the hotel room all morning. Santana had found the shop a few streets down from her hotel. The owner had just been unlocking the cage when she walked up.

"Morning."

"Hey. Mind if I took a look around?"

"Not much to see."

"I know what I'm looking for." Santana wanted to feel in control again. Never again would that asshole surprise her like that. It had been a long time since she had felt the type of fear that Greene had induced.

"Suit yourself."

Twenty minutes later, Santana was placing a brand new knife in her purse and shaking the man's hand.

"I can see you're not playing, so I'm not even going to attempt to tell you about my selection of pepper spray." He chided with a smile.

Santana shrugged and revealed a small smile. "I don't think it would do me much good. Besides, I was never one for giving much of a warning."

"If it's that serious, don't mind my prying, but maybe you should be going to the authorities."

Santana almost barked at the irony of the statement since it was because of a detective in the police department that she felt so threatened. Even the possibility of the Strangler had seemed like a distant one because the notes and the messages had been so cryptic in nature. It was hard to tell if she was supposed to be a victim of his sick ritual or a witness he enjoyed showing the bodies to.

"I don't think the authorities would be much help." She responded with brevity, despite her situation. The older man just shrugged. It wasn't his business anyway.

There was no mistaking Greene's intention. He intended harm and Santana Lopez wasn't going to be unarmed. Next time that little fucker came close to her, she'd have more than a few words to give him.

She tugged Brittany's jacket around her body closer. Today she couldn't bear the thought of putting on a skirt; something about heels and the confines of proper attire reminded Santana of how difficult it would be to outrun a pursuer dressed in such. She wore her hair down around her face. Brittany's leather jacket covered an old McKinley High School cheerleading shirt she always had in her business suitcase. Normally, she wore it after a long day of negotiations pretend as if life was simple again. Today, she wore it for comfort. Finally, she had opted for jeans because nothing said 'fuck you' like not wearing her usual outfit.

The knife in her purse though made her feel better.

Buy pepper spray? Fuck that. She was going to cut that bitch if he ever came near her again.

She glanced to her watch. It was still early in the morning – way too early for "P,B, or J" to be awake especially after all that alcohol. Last night, before she made her way to the Ruffed Grouse, she had received only one lead that went anywhere. It hadn't seemed like much at the time, but he had given Santana the name of a park and a time. More importantly, he had revealed Santana would be interested in who frequented this particular park at this time in the morning.

The park wasn't far and the taxi dropped her off without incident. In fact, it felt strange to not be escorted by a few undercover cops or know that a car not too far off would be observing her every move. At first, she thought perhaps she had seen someone watching her in a car, but when she looked again, Santana realized it had been no one. Maybe she was just one edge.

No, she was definitely on edge. The blade in her purse made her feel only slightly better as she started to walk to where the contact said she should be at this time in the morning. Santana found a park bench that overlooked a small area for dogs and a place for children to play. But saw nothing particularly exciting.

A stray thought made all the hair on her body rise in alarm.

This could be a trap.

No police detail. No anyone who even knew she was here. Nothing except a park and an anonymous tip. Her left hand opened the mouth of her purse and reached inside for the newly bought blade. The handle felt alien and unfamiliar, but even a strange weapon could easily scare off an attacker if he was caught by surprise.

A voice called out. "Lucas, stop running! You're going to fall and then I'll have to explain what happened."

Santana instantly released the grip she had on the knife in her purse and sat further back on the park bench. Her back slouched as she attempted to appear as nondescript as possible. _Lucas_. Did her informant really just send her to spy on Brittany and Greene's kid? Her hands felt clammy and she wiped them on her jeans. Trying to look inconspicious, Santana felt completely the opposite. Part of her wanted to walk over closer to the park to see Lucas close-up. The other part of her felt strange as if she was spying on Brittany's very personal life. At one time, they had shared everything. So why did she feel as if she was betraying Brittany by being here without her?

Obviously, she couldn't approach Lucas without Britt, but she couldn't help but watch as the little boy ran under the play set and rolled in the snow. A small smile crossed her face as she imagined Brittany with the small boy. Even in high school, when Britt had practically adopted Tim as their little brother or whatever he was, she had a way of relating to him that Santana never quite understood. Watching Lucas, Santana could vividly see Brittany in the park with LT. So despite the rather frigid air and the freezing winds sweeping across the snow covered park, warmth spread through Santana's body at the images in her mind.

If Britt were here with Lucas, she would probably be running around with her jacket unzipped and snow all over her clothes. She always enjoyed the snow. Her hat would be anything from a giraffe to a penguin or… that yellow beanie she wore since Ladykiller was torn at Reckloose. Santana blinked. As her vision cleared, it wasn't Brittany playing with Lucas, but a middle aged woman who appeared annoyed. She was distraught and talking distractedly on the phone to someone else. Santana frowned. Lucas was essentially playing with himself. Reality was a bitch and rarely fit anyone's fantasy.

This was not Brittany.

Even if this woman had been Brittany, Santana didn't belong in this part of her ex-girlfriend's life. The brunette's frown deepened. Now she shoved her hands further inside the jacket as the warmth she had manufactured from wishful thinking quickly dissipated.

_But I still love you_.

The words reverberated through Santana's body and she shifted on the bench. Last night had been tumultuous, dangerous, and unfair to her on all fronts. Dealing with Brittany had been terribly painful. She couldn't have left Britt at the Grouse drunk and with no way home. So she had to take her home. And when they were together it felt like the world stopped. But then Britt had to say all those things. At the worst time. Why couldn't she have said those things four years ago when it mattered? Now they were trapped performing the steps to a familiar dance but at opposite ends of the dance floor and with different partners. They weren't the same people and they never would be.

Then Greene…

"Look, Derek, I can't watch this kid forever. He's not even my nephew. I'm not a babysitting service. You pick him up tonight and don't have that blonde slut come around for him either. I hate dealing with her." The woman spoke loudly into her cell phone. Santana's ears perked. This woman was talking to the devil right now. Whatever else she was saying, Santana couldn't hear, but she had seen enough. Before the woman or Lucas noticed her, Santana stood up from the bench and shoved her hands into her pockets.

Santana looked back just once to see if her vision of Brittany in the snow was still there. For a second, she swore she saw a yellow knitted beanie bouncing underneath the play set and jumping into the snow.

But it was just a play of the light.

* * *

Santana didn't bother to call Britt's apartment ahead of time. The PI would probably still be recovering from a night of hardcore drinking with Puckerman and the police at the Grouse. As she approached the door to Britt's apartment, Santana paused and remembered that she didn't have a key to enter. But Brittany didn't either when she had opened the door the previous night. Santana turned the knob. It swung open awkwardly since neither Puck nor Britt had fixed the frame from when Noah had burst through the door.

"Britt?" Santana called out.

"We're in here." A voice, not Brittany's, answered.

Santana hesitated at the doorway. Brittany had been hammered last night. There was no way another woman would have been able to come over, unless Britt had called someone after Santana left. In a way, Santana wished that were true so she could rebury all the feelings and emotions Brittany always stirred.

But it wasn't anything remotely close to her wild imaginings. Britt was lying on the couch face up with an arm thrown over her face to block out the sun. Puck was leaning back on the recliner with Jocelyn sitting on his lap. The reporter must have been the one to answer Santana's call because she was staring expectantly at the doorway.

"So you're all here?" Santana asked with a smirk on her face. They looked terrible. "I guess you guys don't mind if I watch cartoons and play music right now?"

"Uggg. Please no noise, Tana. I can't even see where you are." Puck muttered underneath Jocelyn's body.

Britt was still unresponsive on the couch with her eyes closed. Santana glanced from the blonde to the brunette reporter with a questioning gaze.

"She's fine. Just not really feeling so great. We found her in the bathroom this morning and I had to literally drag this one-" Jocelyn pointed to Noah. "-over here, to Britt's apartment." Jocelyn rubbed Noah's shoulder.

"And you're fine?" Santana asked with curiosity. Jocelyn had been drunk too. For some reason, Santana found it strange the reporter seemed cheery and chipper when Puck and Britt, both of each had a reputation for drinking, were out of sorts.

"I'm a morning person." Jocelyn said with a smile, as if the question meant little to her. "Unlike these two."

"We're going to have a go drinking some time…" Santana said as a challenge, but she was definitely impressed. It had been awhile since someone had been able to drink her under the table.

"Sure." Jocelyn said with a secretive smirk as if she understood the invitation was a challenge. Her eyes met Santana's for only a half second before they darted to the phone in her pocket. "I think that's my ride."

"You're leaving?"

"Some of us still have jobs." Jocelyn said and then cringed at the noise Noah made underneath her. "Sorry, babe, too soon." She kissed Puck's shaved head and gave Santana another look. "I'll be around later."

"Your car's here?"

"Nah, my camera man's here and says we have a job to cover. So he'd swing by on the way. I didn't expect him this early." Jocelyn bent back over and kissed Puck on the mouth this time. "I'll see you later?"

"If I'm alive." Noah muttered back, but smiled as he kissed her. The reporter gathered her bag and coat before she headed out the door. Santana leaned against the door frame and gave Puck a look. The detective took a few moments before realizing that her gaze was upon him. He smiled and squinted at her. "Missed you last night, Tan. Apparently I almost had as much fun getting demoted as I did when I made detective. My phone's been buzzing all morning."

"I'm sure it has." Santana rolled her eyes. "I hope you didn't forget about me, because I did show up."

"What?" He asked confused. Clearly he had blacked out.

"Oh I definitely showed up for the peanut butter and jelly show." Santana winked. "Peanut."

"Ugg. You got to be kidding me. Only Pierce could get me to call myself Peanut in a room full of grown men and hot women. Fucking Brittany." He turned his head and looked at the motionless body on the couch. "You're the worst wingwoman ever and I'm pretty sure you were hitting on my girlfriend."

"Was not." The blonde blob groaned.

"Oh yeah?" Santana's voice hitched more than she wanted as she tried to garner more information from the PI without making it seem obvious. "You and the reporter?"

"For the record, miss prosecutor." Brittany playfully spoke through the mound of hair on her face. "She was hitting on me."

"If I had a girlfriend for every time she said that…" Puck said. "I'd probably have all my old girlfriends back."

Santana laughed. "Worst wingwoman ever. The prosecution rests."

"And my sentence?" Brittany slowly sat up from the couch, but did so with a smirk.

"I think you're suffering enough." Santana started to say. "But I will need my partner back soon because we still have a case to work."

"Fuck." Puck also started to stir. "I still have to go into work. The chief's gonna kill me."

"I don't think he was expecting you today." Santana reminded him gently, that despite the "fun" they had with Puck's demotion, it actually had been a real demotion. "Remember?"

"Oh I remember." Puck announced as he finally stood up from the recliner. "And that's exactly the reason why I need to go in today and show my face."

"You're a mess." Santana said more directly.

"Don't care. I want the chief to see how dedicated I am to catching this perp. He can take me off the case, but it's going to take more than that for me to stop working. Besides, I know it wasn't the chief's fault. His hands were tied."

"Greene." Brittany growled the name from her position on the couch.

Santana's body clenched at the name. Her back stiffened, but she remained silent. She saw the way Greene goaded Britt at the police station. He was malicious and crafty – something Santana had experienced first-hand last night. The buttons he knew how to push would easily set Brittany off again. If Santana was going to fix the situation with Lucas, she needed to keep Brittany as level-headed as possible. It meant Brittany couldn't know about Greene's unfriendly visit to Santana's hotel room last night or that Santana had been spying on Lucas this morning.

Besides Greene, Brittany was her own worst enemy.

Santana kept her mouth shut about the visit and feigned ignorance. "Greene, again?"

"Yeah, he's the only guy who would try to get me actively kicked off this case just because it would mess Britt up." Puckerman stood and readjusted the shirt he was wearing. He smelled like booze.

"Please tell me you're going to change before you go to the station."

"There's some clothes in your drawer, Puck." Brittany said.

"Thanks, Pierce." Puck walked into Brittany's room and closed the door. Within ten minutes, he was dressed and at least looked semi-presentable.

"Uh-huh…" Santana gave him another look. He seemed okay and had even splashed some water on his face. But something was definitely off. "Noah…come here." She crooked her finger at him.

"What?" He said, inching his way to the door in the opposite direction.

"Why don't you smell like booze anymore?"

"Huh? What? I don't know what you're talking about…" Puck was trying even harder to slide around Santana without getting too close.

"Is that peaches?" Santana didn't bother to hide her amusement.

"No!" Puck practically ran out of the apartment. "I've got to get to work. See you guys later."

Santana was giggling and bent over by the time the door to the apartment closed. She shot Brittany a knowing glance. "I think he was wearing some of your body spray."

"Are we sure that girl of his is real?" Brittany laughed and rolled her eyes. "By the way, that woman is inhuman. She outdrank me straight up. Like who does that? I think she might be a robot. Also I need a pillow hat around my head."

"Sorry I forgot my pillow hat at the hotel, but I can get you some water." Santana walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water. Brittany accepted it gratefully. "Remember anything from last night?"

"Oh sure." Brittany rolled her eyes and took a long, obnoxious gulp of water. "I remember Puck waking up and wanting to go out. I remember he texted_ everyone_ in his phone. We ended up at the Grouse. Jocelyn got dropped off by her camera man, but then he left. Then drinking. Lots and lots of drinking."

"That's it?" Santana asked, once again, she trying to maintain a normal tone of voice.

_But_ _I still love you._

"Why?" Brittany glanced up from the water with a smile. "Is there anything else I should remember?

"No. I mean nothing too exciting." Santana didn't know if she felt relief or not. Only the slightest twitch to her lips revealed her internal struggle.

But Brittany must have missed it. "I wasn't stripping, was I? Those assholes don't need another show."

"Another show?" That piqued Santana's interest. It was better not to rehash last night.

The PI realized that she had said her inside thoughts out loud. Santana smirked and rolled her eyes again.

"Don't ask."

"Fair enough." Santana pulled away and waited until Britt finished her water. "You ready to go?"

Brittany glanced up. "What? Go where?"

"I wasn't kidding when I said that I needed my partner. We still have leads to follow, B."

"Fine. Let me shower first." Brittany groaned and rolled off the couch. She stumbled into the bathroom and threw the shower on. Santana sighed, but was determined to not think about last night. Ever. She pulled out her cell phone. Terry had texted a few times. Santana's fingers flew across the buttons in response before she looked up a few phone numbers in New York. But before she could find the name she wanted, a text message flashed across the top of her search.

Tim: _I think I got something. Meet me?_

Santana frowned. Got something? What could that mean? She had specifically told him to not get involved in the Strangler case. Figures he wouldn't listen to her now. At least in California he had been manageable. Somehow, the mere presence of Brittany in the same time zone was helping Tim revert to his old ways. Ways that involved insane theories, crazy ideas, and even kookier plans – all of which were facilitated or encouraged by the PI.

Great.

_Got what? I told you to stay away from New York._

Tim: _My mom told me I was part of LT:PI so I should come back_

_You still listen to your mom? You still call her mom?_

Tim:_ Yeah well, she's my mom :/_

_Whatever. What do you have?_

Tim:_ Too much to tell you in a text. You have to see it. Come to my hotel! I sent my driver to Boss Lady's apartment to drive you here!_

_This better be good._

"Where are you dragging me off to?" Brittany finally emerged from her room looking and smelling better; or smelling the same, as Puck. No, Santana thought silently, peaches definitely smelled better on Brittany.

"I can't believe what I'm about to say, but there's a limo waiting for us outside." Santana rolled her eyes.

"Really?"

* * *

It wasn't long before the women were in the aforementioned limo together and driving further into the city. Brittany had also opted for comfort over style today. She wore a long sleeve t-shirt and jeans. Her hair had been dried before they left the apartment because Santana had insisted Brittany care about the freezing weather. It was brushed straight down and rested beneath the yellow beanie which had seen much better days. Lastly, Brittany was still wearing Santana's jacket. Neither woman had said anything about the switch or had asked to switch back, but each was incredibly aware of the clothing swap. It was unavoidable. Every time they would even glance in each other's direction, they could see their clothes on the other. When they used to live together, it would be a common and uneventful occurrence. Whatever piece of clothing was closest, or matched an outfit better was taken without a second's thought. Now, it felt monumental and neither one of them wanted to be the first to mention it.

"I thought Tim booked it out of the city." Brittany said excitedly. Her hands were touching the entire interior – the leather seats, the ceiling, the light, the latch to the sunroof.

Santana smirked as she watched Brittany going from seat to seat and playing with all the buttons and luxuries inside the limo. Times like this, watching Britt act like a kid, like she used to, made everything just fade away. "I told him to leave. But now that you're around, I'm sure he'll go back to not listening to anything I say. Just to make it clear. I cleaned up the mess of a life he started out there. If he's going to come back here and play at detective, I'm no longer representing him."

"Yawn." Brittany playfully teased Santana. "No wonder he doesn't listen to you, Madam Lopez." Brittany laughed at her own joke right as she opened the mini-bar, but the sight of alcohol this early in the morning and after a night of indulgence made her stomach turn. "Why would they have that stocked already? Don't they know I'm recovering? Too soon."

The blonde shut the mini-bar and leaned back into her seat and looked up at the double-sided mirror that separated the cab.

"I'm sure they stocked it on purpose." Santana rolled her eyes. "Just because you got drunk last night."

"What could he possibly have?" Brittany asked. She ignored Santana's light jab.

"No idea. He's your project. Remember?" Santana gently reminded Brittany that she had been the one to find and practically adopt Tim.

The driver pulled up to one of the nicest hotels in New York and escorted them out of the limo. One of the hotel attendants were already waiting for them.

"Miss Lopez and Miss Pierce." He said with a flourish of the arms. "Mr. Kepley asked that I would bring you to his suite. He's waiting for you."

Santana rolled her eyes even harder at the man. Tim could be ridiculous at times. They walked with the hotel employee and took the elevator up. Apparently the suite was quite a large place since there were only a few rooms on this particular floor. The man rapped once upon the door and it opened right away.

"Boss Lady!" Tim ferociously attacked Brittany and pulled her into a monster hug. And then it started again. Their fists pounded, exploded, brought it back, built the tower, fed the cat, checked out the ladies, stole the cookie jar, released the kraken, and they ended with a chest bump.

Santana was beginning to regret not taking any of the liquor from the limo. Tim must have seen her rolling her eyes and backed away from Brittany with caution. "Now, captain, I know what you're going to say because I _did_ hear you when you told me to leave New York and visit my mom. I know you might be mad at me, but I feel like I can help with solving the case."

Santana bit her tongue. This wasn't LT:P-EYE or even LT:PI. This wasn't a case. This was a killer. This was a psycho and she already lost one friend. This was dangerous. This was so much more. There was a knife in her purse and a killer trying to contact her and a detective who had a vendetta against her and her ex-girlfriend. "Tim…"

"Please, just come in before you yell at me." Tim batted his eyes and played with his wavy hair.

Brittany smiled back at Santana. Her hand casually brushed against her partner's arm. The contact jarred the lawyer from her thoughts. "Let's just hear him out, San."

Santana's eyes first dropped to Brittany's fingers wrapped so gently around her forearm and then glanced back up. All her objections faded. "Fine."

"Yes!" Tim shouted excitedly and ushered them into his suite. "So, I was thinking that there had to be some way I could help in this investigation. And then I was like well, all I have is that post card to go by and of course my fame."

"So what did you do, Tim?" Santana did not like where this was going. They followed him into the main common area of the suit, but she stopped dead in her tracks. Brittany did the same. Their mouths dropped in disbelief and confusion. "Oh my god, Tim, what is that?"

Brittany couldn't even formulate a question, the hand she had on Santana's forearm loosened for a second, but remained there.

"Ta-da!" He announced and lifted his arms to show off his – well, Santana and Brittany were still unsure what it was. "I used all my influence from my fame and my fans to track and locate every possible place where the postcard of the New York skyline could have been bought."

The walls of the suites were covered with tape and postcards and a giant size poster of New York City. There were tacks in the walls and markers with arrows pointing to every street and lines made with yarn connecting stores to other stores. In fact, there was no way to discern any sort of information because the map was literally covered with too much information.

"What the fuck?" Santana breathed. "What have you been doing?"

"Well we can pinpoint the exact locations where the killer could be living based on where he could have possibly bought the postcard."

"Tim! According to this map, he could literally live anywhere in New York." Santana snapped.

"Well-" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm still working on a system to narrow it down, but I mean, some of New York doesn't have tourist sites, so you can count them out of the equation."

"But you still put lines there." Brittany observed as she finally released Santana's arm and moved to the map. Her fingers ran along some of the strings. "You still put questions marks in all the blank spots."

"I didn't want to rule anything out."

"Tim…" Without Brittany's hand on her arm to distract her, Santana's patience was wearing thin. She literally bought a knife for protection that morning and Tim was trying to give her some CSI shit or Sherlock Holmes or whatever he must have watched recently.

"I was just trying to help…"

"So you got a bunch of hormonal teens to run around the city and look for these postcards?" Santana glanced to the stacks and stacks of postcards that looked identical to the one Tim had handed over to Macklin for processing.

"Yes?"

"I could kill you sometimes." Santana growled.

"On the bright side…" Brittany teased as she flipped a card back and forth in her hand. "At least this prick will have to pick a new card."

Santana was about to turn and snap on Brittany, but there was something in the way the blonde's blue eyes were staring at her. The Latina paused.

"So this isn't helpful?" Tim asked, already fearing the answer to the question.

"No, Tim! And stop sending these girls around. I'll tell you when you need to mobilize them." Santana saw the disappointment in his posture. "Just go back to Lima or California. I still need you to water my plants."

"But I want to do something here."

"I know."

"You did do something…" Brittany left the map of New York and walked over to him. "I needed to see you, but now I need you to be safe. Promise that you'll get out of here?"

"Yeah I promise, but…" Tim gave them a toothy grin. "I'll keep the suite with all my notes and maps so if you ever need them, you can use'em."

"Doubtful, but thanks for the offer." Santana rolled her eyes.

"Well there are other uses for a suite like this…" Brittany said with that sparkle back in her eyes. The blonde smirked and winked touching the front part of her yellow beanie as if it was still her Ladykiller hat. Honestly, Santana felt as if she would roll her eyes out of her head this morning. But again, there was something different about the way Britt's eyes were meeting hers.

At first, Santana believed it was panic that rippled through her body at Brittany's unflinching gaze. How much did Britt remember from last night? But eventually as her body warmed and her skin tingled, Santana realized panic was definitely the wrong emotion. Britt made her feel things much worse than panic. Her ex-lover made her feel everything – all at the same time. Flushed, Santana broke their eye contact.

Santana turned back to Tim. "You have an army of teenage girls at your disposal and instead of causing havoc or starting a new world order, they buy you every postcard of New York? You're a dangerous man, Mr. Kepley."

Tim blushed. "I just wanted to make sure you were safe."

"I will be." Santana pulled him into a hug. "Thanks."

* * *

After dealing with Tim's delirious antics, Santana didn't feel much like checking out any further leads in the case, so Tim's driver drove them back to Brittany's apartment. After Santana had closed to door to the apartment, they took a few steps forward and lingered. The air was thick with unspoken words and tensions neither woman could ignore. Brittany removed Santana's jacket from her body and lightly tossed it on the small table.

"Can you believe him?" Santana sighed.

"Sure. I think he just wanted to be part of something again."

"But buying all the same postcards the killer sent me? Even you have to admit, he took it way too far."

"What's hard to believe? Obviously, he wanted to be part of the gang again. He wanted it to be the way it used to be. You know like when things were normal between us-" Brittany caught herself. "-between all of us."

"I just wish he'd listen to me." Santana chose to consciously ignore the small slip Brittany made when identifying the "us" that needed to be fixed. "Everything changes. It's not like we can wake up and suddenly decide for it to go back to the way it was and then poof! Everything's normal again." Santana muttered as she unzipped Brittany's jacket from her body with a sigh. "I guess we have to explore a different option. I can call you tomorrow if I think of anything."

But Brittany completely ignored Santana's weak attempt at small talk. It was the "us" she couldn't let go. "Can we talk about last night?" Britt asked. Her bright eyes shot up in complete and utter clarity.

"What's to talk about?" Santana instinctively reacted. She didn't want to talk about last night because she feared the consequences of giving a voice to feelings she had been burying. Santana's chest seized at the thought of their relationship. Some things were better left alone. Santana realized that she cut her partner off. Trying to appear nonchalant, she softened her voice. "You were drunk, I took you home. Nothing special."

"I remember…" Brittany said quietly. "I remember you taking me home and the taxi…"

"Britt…" Santana knew they didn't have to go there. She knew what it was like when drunken words were uncontrollable. Besides, going "there" would mean talking about things they had silently agreed to not bring up. Their entire partnership rested on their resilience to never revisit the past. So far it had been working and Santana needed it to continue for a little longer.

"I remember what I said, Santana." Brittany whispered quietly. After a moment's pause when she realized Santana wasn't going to say anything back, she continued. "I meant every word of it."

Every word. Every fucking word. Santana shut her eyes hard; her hands covered her face. All day she had told herself to ignore those words – to ignore the way Brittany had just thrown that on her. She wanted to just sweep it under the rug because if those words had been true then why the fuck had she just spent the past four years in California? Why the fuck would Brittany say this now? Santana had spent four years telling herself that she had made the right decision to leave Brittany and lied to herself every night. Emotions she had kept suppressed for years were bubbling to the surface now. She could barely contain them, much less think of a way to express everything she was feeling.

Last night, she had been able to chalk it all up to intoxication. But after Greene's visit and after telling herself that Brittany's drunk ramblings had been nothing, Santana was not prepared for this type of confession. Not now. Not when it seemed like the entire city of New York was waiting for her to make one false step.

"Every word?" She managed to repeat, but it did little to quell the torrent raging inside of her.

"Yes." Brittany said with hope in her eyes.

"Every fucking word?" Santana repeated. This time, Britt didn't answer the question. The hopefulness that had been there vanished to confusion. Every word Brittany had drunkenly slurred came rushing back along with emotions Santana had been willing to suppress for four years. "You're willing to wait for me? To do what, Brittany? You're willing to wait? You want to put a hat on my head so you can claim me again? You want to say you love me and then fall asleep so you don't have to hear my response?"

Santana's body shook as she stepped backward. She needed space. Every lie she had told herself to feel better for four years was exploding in her chest. "I don't need you to wait for me, Brittany! I didn't need anything from you fours ago! I just needed you! I fucking waited _for you_. I waited for you to talk to me. I waited for you every night to come home. I fucking waited for you to come to the bar so we could talk. I waited for you every night when I went to sleep by myself in California. I waited for you every morning when I woke up by myself-"

Brittany's mouth opened, but she couldn't refute anything Santana was saying. She had pushed Santana away. She had every right to yell – Santana had every right to hate her for what Britt had done to her.

"I fucking waited for you to come to me because I knew, _because I knew_, that when you came for me, it would mean that you were ready. It meant that you wanted things to be okay again." Santana's body shook with incredible passion. Every emotion that she had buried was spilling out uncontrollably. Those dark eyes were blazing. "But you _never_ came."

Britt hung her head. She couldn't meet her eyes.

"You never came after me. I don't need you to wait for me now. I didn't need you to wait for me then, Brittany. I needed you to show me that you wanted me. That you wanted us." Santana finished, but her entire body was thrumming. Her heart was pounding.

The inside of Brittany's mouth dried and her heart was hammering just as hard as Santana's. All she could remember was the way she had shut Santana out. She had put Rachel's death solely on herself. And when Santana had tried to reach out, Brittany had allowed her girlfriend to walk away. Instead of sitting in front of Santana's performance at the lounge, Britt had kept her presence unknown. What else would Santana think, except that Brittany didn't want to talk to her or be there for her? Britt forced Santana to make that trip to California. When she had read the law firm's acceptance letter in their apartment, Brittany had made the call for their relationship.

"You don't get to fuck with my feelings now. You don't get to do that to me…" Santana choked and shook her head. She couldn't cry. Not here, not now. She turned to walk away.

The shift in the air caused Britt to look up. Santana was leaving? Just like that? Brittany knew she had fucked up. She knew that things hadn't gone right. But that meant that was it? Their relationship was over completely? Why had Santana kissed her if she still didn't feel things for her?

"So that's it?" Brittany asked quietly, but her voice picked up in volume. This was the time. They had been skillfully dancing around all the unsaid anxieties between them for far too long. They knew it would only be a matter of time before they couldn't avoid this confrontation. "So I make one mistake and that's it? How many times have you made a mistake in our relationship? How many times have you walked away? How was I supposed to know that you wouldn't walk back? I was confused and I was hurt and I didn't know what to do. So I let you go because I thought that was what was best for you."

"What was best for me?" Santana snapped right back into the argument. "I didn't want what was best for me and you don't get to make those decisions. Why couldn't you think of what was best for us? I only wanted you. I only wanted us!"

"So it's only _wanted_? It's all in the past now and Santana Lopez can't revisit the past? Everyone moves on? How can you say that?" Brittany wouldn't believe that she had been making up the way Santana looked at her for the past few weeks. "You're saying you don't want this? What have we been doing? You kissed me – _me! _Not the other way around! Don't pretend like you don't love me. Don't pretend you don't want us. I know I messed up, but it's not a good enough reason to keep shutting me out."

"Pretend?" Santana rolled her eyes. Her hands were flying in the air and then pointed straight to her chest as if to identify the location of all the pain. "I'm not pretending anything, Brittany. I do love you. Fuck. I will _always_ love you! But I've had to wait for you and wait and wait and after years of waiting, I didn't know if I even wanted you to finally come and get me." It felt criminal to admit she had given up on Brittany out loud, but it tore through her chest. The truth always hurt, especially when the person she had been lying to was herself. "And coming back here? Coming back to New York? That was a mistake because seeing you… seeing you, Brittany, it's been like living with a hole in my chest. And every time we're together it only gets bigger."

"So let me fill it." Brittany tried to reason. It felt like the world was crumbling again. "Why can't we start over?"

"It's not that simple." Santana bit back with anger in her voice. Why did Brittany have to do this now? Couldn't they have kept it all beneath the surface? "Life doesn't start over, Brittany. It changes and it never goes back to what it was. So fuck you, but no."

"I don't believe that." Brittany whispered against Santana's harsh words. "I don't think you do either."

But Santana was finished. She wanted to flee. Years of torturing herself and telling herself that the love of her life would eventually come around had broken her in ways she hadn't realized. This whole thing had been a mistake. Four years and _now_ Brittany wanted back in? Fuck it. Maybe after some alone time to process everything she would calm down, but right now, with tensions so high, Santana's only response was to react with years of pent up rage. She pulled her jacket on tighter and realized it wasn't technically her jacket. She was still wearing Brittany's. Too angry to want to switch back, Santana ignored the way her fingers paused and trembled in the slightest at the jacket latch.

Fuck her. Just fuck her.

Santana ripped the zipper up and turned on her heels to head for the door.

Her hand on the door knob, Santana didn't have time to see Brittany's open palm smack against the door above her head. The door slammed closed. The blonde pressed against her from behind. Her lips parted right next to Santana's ear. And even though she whispered, Santana could feel every word. "I'm _not_ letting you do that a second time."

"Don't…" Enraged, Santana shut her eyes tight, but her body still turned back to Brittany. She couldn't do this.

"You want me to come after you? This is me coming after you." Brittany's right hand gripped the collar of the jacket Santana was wearing like she had done the previous night. "I want you, Santana. I won't let you go again."

"Brittany…" Santana's whisper sounded like a plea against Brittany's raw earnest words. "Please…"

But she didn't complete her request. Santana didn't know if she wanted Brittany to stop or for her to never stop.

The blonde didn't give her a chance to make up her mind. She tugged Santana from the door and completely into her body. Brittany tilted her head forward and closed her eyes. Her other hand left the door next to Santana's head and gently caressed the side of her neck right before her fingers plunged into her thick dark hair. Santana had no choice but to lift her chin up. Her eyes met Brittany's in that brief second; it felt like an eternity as Brittany closed the space between her mouth and Santana's.

Then she stole it.

Brittany stole everything.

The hurt, the pain, the anger, her breath, her thoughts, the past, their present, all the fear, the anxieties, and most importantly, her heart.

All of it belonged to Brittany the moment she pressed her lips to Santana's. Santana struggled. Letting go had never been easy. Even now as her lips parted against those lips she knew so well, her hands grasped at the blonde's shirt. Her grip was sharp and violent, but it didn't stop their kiss. For a few fleeting seconds of resistance, Santana's fists balled the material in her hands and hit Brittany's chest over and over again as if it would alleviate all the pain she had endured for years. Brittany grunted against the blows, but didn't stop. Her mouth opened a fraction of an inch. Santana's teeth bit down onto her bottom lip and dragged it out.

"San." Brittany painfully moaned in tandem with illicit pleasure. Her hips rocked forward with such force, their bodies pitched back against the hard surface of the door behind Santana. The brunette groaned as her back arched. The belt buckle on Brittany's jeans caught the hem of Santana's shirt. The metal felt hot as it brushed against her abdomen every time Brittany rocked into her lower body.

"Fuck you." Santana desperately groaned before she pushed Brittany back. Her whole body felt aflame with passion that she had so desperately denied. Her hands didn't release the blonde's shirt, but in one swift motion, Santana yanked the shirt over Brittany's head. The collar caught for only a second before it pulled all the way up. Blonde hair hung in the air, but Santana didn't notice. She was pushing Brittany by the collarbone backward. The fires in her eyes hadn't ebbed since their fight, but they were different now. Brittany could barely breathe. Her own blue eyes were hooded with desire. "Fuck you, Britt." Santana growled this time. The shallow inhale – the barely audible gasp that Britt released as her lower stomach clenched at the raw passion lighting between their bodies.

Four years. They had only moments ago admitted they still loved each other and Brittany's shirt was crumbled into a ball on the ground. Apparently all the emotions and feelings they shared had never gone away, but had been boiling underneath the surface waiting for release.

Thick fire burned between them.

Brittany was not unaffected. Now that she was on her heels and moving backward, it allowed her time to find the zipper Santana had so violently yanked up. Her fingers deftly caught hold of the small piece of metal. Now, as Santana's mirror opposite, Brittany just as violently ripped it down. Her hands fumbled at the edges of the leather before she tore either side back. Santana had to release her grip on her ex-lover in order to work her arms from the sleeves. Her wrist flicked and the jacket was discarded to the floor and left behind. Santana didn't resist as the McKinley High School cheerleading t-shirt quickly followed.

Their hands were more insatiable than their mouths. Years spent apart. Weeks making eye contact without touching. Nights spent vividly remembering. Loneliness poorly consoled by wildly trying to recall every freckle, every blemish, every curve, and every inch of flesh created an unquenchable thirst for exploration. Hands ran across smooth, already gleaming skin, coated in a thin sheen of sweat. Fingers danced along shoulders and circled down collarbones before they hooked underneath straps and traced the linings and bra wirings. Nails drew red lines between valleys and left trails of goosebumps. Their hips rocked in time, grinding back and forth as their abs did most of the work. Their naked stomachs rubbed together as palms opened and fingers spread. Their mouths collided. Moist tongues licked and teeth nibbled at swollen lips. Hair flopped and got in the way, but neither woman noticed. Their minds too occupied, their bodies too hot, and their hearts too uncontrollable.

"San-" Britt's voice husked between small moments when her lips were uncovered.

Santana may have said her name back, but it was hard to tell. The backs of Brittany's knees crashed into the arm of the couch. The former dancer teetered on the brink of falling backward. Their ministrations paused for a second. Their eyes met. In a terrible way, both women knew the other one could walk away. They could stop. Panting, they stared into each other's eyes forever. Santana was acutely aware of Brittany's hands on either side of her hips. The blonde had always loved the feel of her hipbones especially when Santana was on top riding her. The thought didn't come lightly. The slightest moan escaped her lips as the anticipation and memory of such vivacious pleasure ran through her body. All it took was the smallest reaction from Brittany. Her hands tightened and pulled in response to Santana.

Santana's left hand reached down behind Brittany with years of experience. In one flick of her fingers, Brittany's bra dropped from her shoulders and landed on the floor.

"Fuck, B." Santana breathed at the sight of those pert nipples and pink areolas. It had been so long.

All balance was lost. The brunette gave her a solid shove backward. Britt's grip remained strong on her hips as both women toppled to the couch. Santana landed squarely straddling Brittany's hips. Her jeans stretched and the seam rubbed dangerously against her cilt. Dark hair hung over Brittany's face, but did little to obscure the hunger in her ex-lover's eyes.

Embolden by passion, their fight, and inevitability of hot, untamed sex, Brittany smirked. But it didn't last long. Santana's eyes lingered on her lips before her lips pressed against hers again. They kissed slow and savored every taste and breath. All too soon, Santana pulled back again. Her whole body moved with her. Her fleshy lips caressed their way down Brittany's jawline and trailed along the side of her neck. Overwhelmed, Brittany moaned and threw her head back into the couch cushions. Her hands gripped at the old material as her hips jutted up in rhythmic thrusts.

But Santana's hands slammed Brittany's hips back down into the couch. Her body pinned Brittany so her lips could continue their journey uninhibited.

Every kiss drew yet another gasp and moan from the blonde. Brittany didn't bother to contain herself. Her fingers uncurled from the couch and rushed to the back of Santana's head. They pushed back dark locks of hair so she could see Santana's eyes as the brunette slithered down her body. Their eyes connected just as Santana's mouth opened at the valley of her breast. Small droplets of sweat that had formed from the unbearable heat between their bodies stuck to Santana's bottom lip. Santana's hands pushed up Brittany's lower body and ran up the sides of her stomach till she was palming her breasts. Brittany closed her eyes and dug her body even further into the couch. Her legs twisted and her thighs rubbed as she tried to find some release from the mounting pleasure building in her body.

Just when Brittany thought the foreplay and build up would kill her, Santana's mouth kissed her navel and her tongue swirled around her bellybutton in the most delicious and frustrating manner. "San, please." The blonde begged. Her bright eyes glanced up with unabashed hunger and desire. Panting, Santana pulled back. Her hands dropped to the button of Brittany's jeans and flicked them open. With one tug, Brittany's jeans flipped off the couch. Brittany had pulled herself up and unhooked Santana's bra. "Your pants too." Brittany breathed heavily as she drank in the sight of her former lover's body on display for her. Santana groaned as she pulled further back. The moments their bodies weren't connected made the world seem colder and indifferent to their intimacy. Her legs kicked out until she was down to her panties.

There she stopped. Brittany didn't. The blonde's abs held her steady as she sat up and pulled Santana's blue panties down. The brunette steadied herself on Britt's shoulders and then kicked off the last of her clothing to the floor. Santana's fingers hooked into the hemline of Britt's last piece of clothing. The material dragged down and stuck between Brittany's thighs before it was tossed to the floor as well. Unable to stop herself or care about pacing anymore, Santana's fingers ran down Brittany's core. Her fingers were coated in wetness which mirrored her own body. Santana moaned louder than Brittany did. Their eyes were closed as they began to rock back and forth into each other. Brittany's right hand snaked between their bodies and spread Santana's legs so she would have something to grind down on.

"Fuck." Santana's head ripped back as her hips pitched at the feel of Brittany touching her so intimately. She wanted to give it all back to Brittany – she wanted to share the amazing feeling building inside her. Her fingers pressed forward. One finger slipped into her ex-girlfriend. Brittany's head threw back in uncontrollable ecstasy. Her body thrummed and her hips bucked. "More." She groaned as her fingers rubbed and rubbed against Santana's clit. Their bodies were pitching back and forth. Santana's second finger entered her and Brittany cried out. Dripping sweat and throbbing with pleasure, both women rode each other hard with abandon. Their bodies merging and colliding over and over again. Where one orgasm ended and another began, neither knew. Fingers found familiar spots of pleasure. While lips licked and parted desperately trying to keep moist. Their arms slid up and down sweating skin; hands tugged at hair to pull mouths closer. Bursting with energy and deep passion, they mounted each other at different times before they eventually flipped off the couch.

After what seemed an eternity, their exhausted bodies slowed down until they couldn't even open their eyes or remove their fingers from each other. Their hammering hearts and oxygen deprived lungs lulled and slowed. Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana's back and held her close. Santana fingers played with blonde hair as she buried her forehead into the crook of Brittany's nape. She released a small content and weary sigh before smiling softly to herself and falling asleep.

* * *

Time had splintered and stopped in Brittany's apartment. Nothing moved except for the small up and down of their naked chests. Santana was the first to open her eyes. Everything felt strange and different. Her body ached and her lips were cracked. She looked up into Brittany's peaceful face. The sight of Brittany sleeping so contentedly and everything they had just shared rushed straight into Santana's chest. Her heart ached the hardest of all. A small drop of moisture leaked from her eyes, but she refused to acknowledge it.

"Oh, Britt…" Santana's fingers gently brushed the blonde's face. She whispered. "Oh, shit, babe."

She untangled her body from Brittany's and started to clean up her clothes from the floor. Every single time she bent down, flashbacks of how that article of clothing ended up on the floor rushed through her body. The way Brittany had ripped her shirt off and threw the jacket on the floor.

Her panties were on top of Brittany's jeans.

Her jeans next to the couch.

How easily Britt had unhooked her bra.

Santana retreated with all her clothes and Britt's jacket, since it contained her phone, into the bathroom.

Brittany woke up a few minutes later and instantly felt the lack of Santana in her arms. The blonde sat up. Her body was sore all over, but she clearly remembered their fight and its aftermath. Slowly, she peeled herself off the floor and began to gather her own clothes. She left her bra and panties on the ground. In her bedroom, Britt pulled out a pair of sweatpants and another t-shirt.

Nothing made sense. Love, lust, passion, anger, betrayal. They had all blended together for the most intense experience Brittany ever had.

Nothing compared to Santana. Her body was still charged with excess energy as she remembered how their bodies had mingled and entwined.

It felt like the world was spinning and all she wanted was Santana. Britt knew she hadn't left because her bag was still in the foyer. Brittany glanced to the bathroom door. The light was on. Brittany didn't know how to react. But it wasn't the sex that had Brittany's head spinning, all she could remember was _I do love you. Fuck. I will always love you!_

Everything they had shared, physically and emotionally, could only be shared between two people still totally in love, but why did she have a sinking feeling in her stomach?

A bang on the door broke up her thoughts. Brittany moved from her bedroom to the foyer.

Another bang.

"NYPD! Open up!"

"Funny, Puckerman."

"Ma'am, this is not Detective Puckerman." The rather aggressive voice answered. "Is Santana Lopez in your apartment? We demand that you open your door or we will be forced to take action."

"What the fuck?" Brittany cussed as she moved to answer the voice. She opened her door to find three police officers standing in full uniform. "Are you supposed to be Santana's detail? Because I'm pretty sure you're just supposed to watch her, not babysit her, or bang on my door like assholes."

"Where is Santana Lopez?" The officer said again without any change in his tone of voice. His eyes were scanning the apartment. Santana came around the corner; she had just gotten out of the bathroom and was dressed in her clothes again.

"What do you want?" Santana asked. She thought Greene had made sure she wasn't going to have any cops ensuring her safety anymore. He had been very explicit in his mandate to remove her protective detail. What the hell?

"You need to come with us for questioning." He lifted his hand to indicate that she should follow him.

"For questioning?" Santana repeated still confused and growing wary. "If Macklin wanted to see me, he should have just called. He didn't need to send you guys."

"We're not here on Chief Macklin's request." The officer answered.

"What?" Brittany asked.

"I'm here on Detective Greene's order. You are to be brought in for questioning in regards to multiple open homicide cases." The officer took a step forward, but Brittany slammed the door on his foot.

"Like fucking hell you're taking her anywhere for Greene. You back the fuck up right now." Blue eyes flashed dangerous intentions. There was no way she was going to let Santana walk anywhere Greene was involved.

"We were told to expect resistance." The officer with the door pinning his boot said.

Another who drank with Puck and Britt at the Grouse spoke up. "Don't make us use force, Pierce, this is a direct order from Detective Greene on the Strangler case."

"She's not going anywhere with Greene." Britt wasn't listening. She flipped her head back to Santana. "What the fuck does Greene want with you?"

"Britt, I didn't want to tell you, but I've-"

"We're coming in." The first officer announced.

"Fuck no." Brittany stood her ground. Immediately defensive, Brittany reacted without a thought. Protective, she wasn't going to let anyone take Santana – not to Greene. She lunged forward. At the same time, the officer slammed his shoulder into the door. The force of his body weight pushed Brittany back, but she didn't fall down. She came right back at him as if to bar his entrance with her body. The temper associated with Greene transferred to this man acting on Greene's behalf. "You get the fuck out of here right now."

"I warned you." The officer caught Brittany's fist with his hand and returned the blow with his other. The PI staggered backward and fell over. Her eyes were closed.

"Britt!" Santana yelled and ran to her ex-girlfriend's unconscious body. "Britt, babe. You okay? Wake up. You fucking asshole, you knocked her out!"

Santana went to cradle the blonde's head, but rough hands held her back. Another officer grabbed her purse from the small foyer table. The third officer bent over Brittany's body, checked her pulse and breathing, before turned her on her side. He gave them a thumbs up. "She's out cold, but she'll be fine."

The officer Brittany knew, shook his head. "Pierce shouldn't have done that. Shit. Want me to call it in?"

The other officer nodded his head 'no'.

The original officer who had knocked on the door was slapping cuffs on Santana's wrists behind her back. He declared with utter authority. "Santana Lopez, you are under arrest for assaulting an officer and impeding an open investigation. And you _will_ come to the station with us to answer your for involvement in the Strangler case. Anything you do or say can and will be used against you in a court of law…"

The police officer continued to read her rights, but Santana didn't hear a word he said. She was screaming Brittany's name as they dragged her from the apartment, but the blonde didn't respond and she didn't wake up. Only after they slammed the door to Brittany's apartment and thrown her into the backseat of a cruiser did Santana realize they were taking her into the station as a suspect in the Strangler case.

* * *

**Until next time!**


	22. Chapter 22

**So I received a few threats about how Brittana is endgame and nothing better happen to them. One disagreement on the level of shit hitting the fan. I agree with you, Vsaint, the shit is only beginning to hit the fan. :D But the cake goes to gracielovesyou who so elegantly stated "HOLY MACKLIN." HOLY MACKLIN, indeed! Honestly, I've been saying that for everything. :D**

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 22**

Sirens.

Lights.

Sirens.

Lights.

She awoke to the sound of sirens.

Britt couldn't see. Her head was pounding. Her left eye felt like someone had glued it shut. A hand touched her shoulder. Before she could process, the blonde took a swipe at the person hovering over her body. Images of cops, a fist, yelling, screaming, and Santana rushed back.

Santana.

Santana.

Lucas.

Santana. Lucas. Santana.

They were both screaming her name.

"No!" Brittany bolted straight up. Despite her confusion, the PI managed to throw a punch into the air. It caught an arm, producing a weak "ow!" from the figure above her.

"It's me. It's just me." Noah cooed to his best friend while rubbing the arm she punched.

"Where is she?" Brittany groaned as she sat up. She really couldn't open her left eye. A hand went to her face as she panicked. Frantic, she pressed the tips of her fingers to her cheek and the area around her eye. It stung terribly. "Fuck."

"Whoa. Hold it, Britt. Don't touch. Please don't touch." Puck reached out to pull her hand back. A single blue eye met his. "Shit. Just let me find some ice. You have ice right?"

"In the freezer." Britt called to the running detective. He came back a minute later with ice wrapped in a towel and held together by a hair-tie he must have found in the kitchen.

"Here, put that on your eye." Puck handed the pack over with a frown.

Gingerly, Britt applied the ice to her face and hissed at the increase in pain. "Fuck."

"Britt, what happened? Where's Santana?"

"They took her." Brittany gritted through the pain. "He fucking took her."

"You're not making a whole lot of sense, Britt." Puck didn't want to push her, but nothing was making any sense. He needed answers. "Who took her? Her who? Santana?"

"Greene. He arrested her or took her or something, but she's with him right now." Brittany sucked another quick intake of air as the pain grew sharper. "Where the hell were you?"

"What? With, Greene why?" Puck pulled out his cell phone. He scrolled through his messages. Nothing made sense. "I got a text from one of my buddies. He just said I should come and check on you."

"Of course that fucking coward texted you." Britt remembered the one cop who she knew from the Grouse. "They came saying shit about taking Santana in for questioning. And then it all happened so fast and they were coming in. I couldn't let them take her, Puck. Not to Greene. Not to him. So I tried to stop them."

"Oh shit, Britt." Puck shook his head. "Why would they do that? What could Greene possibly want with Tan?"

"I don't fucking know, but I'm going to beat the answers out of him."

Brittany's good eye darkened. Puck had seen that look before. It never meant anything good for them. In fact, it meant the opposite. Ever since Rachel's death and Santana's absence, he had witnessed Brittany's self-destructive spiral transform to just pure destruction. Britt no longer cared for consequences or who got hurt, she just reacted. And then when she lost Lucas to Greene, Puck had been unable to rein her in at all. When she looked like that, Puck didn't know what to do. Any action he took would be as bad as allowing her to continue with whatever she wanted to do anyway.

The PI pushed herself off the floor with the one hand that wasn't holding the ice to her face.

Puck felt overwhelmed. This was bad. Very bad. He didn't know the game Greene was playing or what happened, but he knew letting Britt hulk-out in the station would be the worst plan ever. "Hey, Pierce, we need to slow it down. You can't walk in there and expect to beat the shit out of that fucker. You remember what happened last time?"

The reminder wasn't something they spoke about, but Noah knew it was necessary to focus her. She needed to think about more than just beating the shit out of Greene. He knew the feeling. There were many times he wanted to take that swing, but he couldn't.

"Yes." Britt's response was more intense than Noah wanted, but at least she hadn't pulled out her gun yet. Maybe he could still stem her rage. "You're going to go in there and get Santana back."

"Yes." Puck said automatically, believing he had gained control of the situation. "Wait. What?"

"You have a fucking badge. You have a fucking gun. I thought you had some fucking balls-" Brittany growled. "So you're going to go in there and bring her out. I don't care how you do it, but she's not going to be in there with that sick bastard!"

"Britt-"

"No!" Brittany cut him off and threw the ice pack to the ground. She grabbed Santana's jacket from the foyer table and zipped it up. Those once sympathetic and honest eyes, that could see the distance of a football field or down the hallways of McKinley, took a different hue. Puck regretfully used to think of Brittany's eyes as the definition of baby blues – now they were cold and jaded. The world was too cruel to change a girl like Brittany into a woman like PI Pierce. But, at least there was passion behind them.

It was a passion Noah hadn't seen in a long time; a passion he knew belonged solely to moments, events, or anything that involved Santana. So he said nothing, but nodded when she pointed at him so vehemently. "You do it, Puck, or I'm going to do it my way."

Fearfully, he believed her.

* * *

"I need to speak to Detective Puckerman." Santana repeated for perhaps the tenth time since she had been booked.

"He's no longer working this case, Ms. Lopez, and therefore cannot be called in. I am under strict orders to keep you in this interrogation room until Detective Greene is ready to meet with you." The police officer assigned to the door informed Santana.

"I understand that Puck isn't part of this, officer." Santana tried to keep her voice down as to not express the real anxiety and pressure building inside. She wanted to lay into this pawn how she was really feeling, but she knew it would be useless. "What you don't understand is that I want to talk to Puck as a friend. He's the only one I have in New York. I need to tell someone where I am. I just need to speak to him. Now." She stressed.

The officer balked and looked to the one-way glass for instruction, but nothing happened. He looked back at Santana with a sigh.

Santana easily picked up on the officer's hesitation and jumped on it. "Look. When I sue this department for all sorts of mismanagement and unlawful imprisonment, I won't hesitate to take you down with it. I have an excellent memory and your badge number. So unless you get me a direct line to Detective Puckerman, I'll be forced to say you were part of this poor excuse for police work."

Again, he didn't look confident and Santana knew he was cracking.

"Just let me text him." Santana batted her eyes. "One of your buddies left my friend lying on the floor unconscious. I just need him to check on her."

The new information about the mistreatment of another person made the officer's lip twitch. "Is your friend okay?"

"I don't know. Please, just let me tell him to check on her."

"Fine. But you're using my phone and I'm watching what you send him."

"That's perfect! Thank you." Santana took the cell phone from the officer and punched in Puck's phone number. The chains connected to her wrists felt heavy as she quickly typed her message.

"Don't hit send until I say you can." The officer gently reminded her. He stood directly behind her. His eyes glanced over the message, but Santana didn't care. The message didn't reveal anything important. How could it when she kept all the important things hidden?

_Puck, its Santana. I don't know what's happening, but Britt's not okay. Please take care of her at her apartment. I'm at the police station. No matter what happens or what's going on, I need you to keep her under control. Don't let her snap._

Santana paused. There were so many things she could say, so many feelings she couldn't accurately express in a simple text. The police officer coughed. But Santana was still debating.

_Tell Britt-_

She stopped again. Her fingers hovered over the keys to the phone. Tell Brittany what? For a moment, Santana left the police station; there were no handcuffs or interrogation rooms. If only they had a few minutes together. If only Santana had the courage to stay connected to Brittany's body for a few more minutes than what would she have told her ex-lover? What could she possibly say?

_Tell Brit-_

What words could compensate for everything between them?

_Tell Bri-_

Would it be enough?

_Tell Br-_

Santana needed to keep focus. She couldn't afford to think about their night together, neither could Brittany.

_Tell B-_

It was better to lock it up until Santana was no longer locked up.

_Tell-_

_Tel-_

_Te-_

_T-_

Santana's fingers hovered over the keys again and stared at the blank space in the message that would have been for Brittany. She thought about the blank spaces of the PI's apartment and the spaces they had filled. The spaces their clothes had littered and the quiet spaces their voices had filled with broken moans and gasps. Lastly, she thought of the spaces they never talked about. The spaces within. The spaces Santana knew would never be repaired. The deep space. The aching space. The space her chest was trying to desperately fill again. The space where her heart had collapsed.

All the spaces that belonged to Brittany.

Infinite space Santana couldn't quite express in a single line.

Instead, the brunette opted for a simple message, one which couldn't hope to convey anything she felt.

_Keep her safe._

"Is this good, officer?" Santana held the phone up for him to approve of the message.

"Yeah, send it. And let's not talk about this again." The button was hit and Santana relinquished the phone back.

"Thank you."

"Puck's a good guy. He's helped me out a few times. It's a favor for him."

"Well I mean it, thank you." Santana reiterated. The police officer returned to his station in front of the interrogation door. "Any idea when someone is going to come in here and explain why I'm being treated as if I've already committed a crime?"

"Detective Greene said he would be around soon. We just have to wait."

"Lovely." Santana rolled her eyes.

* * *

"Hey! Hold up!" The police officer assigned to security raised his baton in the air and blocked Brittany's storm into the precinct. "Check-in, Pierce, and remove your firearm. I know you always have one."

"Fine." Brittany slapped the gun onto the counter for the officer and allowed him to scan her body.

"What the fuck happened to your face?" The man asked with a chuckle. "Have a little too much fun at the Grouse?"

"Ha-ha. Fuck you." Brittany snapped.

Puck quickly stepped into her body from behind and held her by the stomach. Laughing to ease the tension, Noah slapped her hard on the back while smiling to the other man. "You know how she gets at the Grouse. Between us, Pierce is the worst in the morning. Bad hang-over. Don't worry about it. She got into an argument with a trashcan this morning."

"Yeah…" The other man said slowly, his eyes warily washed over the glaring blue eye. "I guess. Whatever. You're good, Pierce, but try not to kill anyone."

"It'll be hard." Brittany snarled with a toothy grin as she stepped through security.

"Sorry bout that-"

"You better watch her, Puck. She looks ready to blow."

"Yeah, she always looks like that." Puck tried to smooth talk his buddy, but he wasn't convincing anyone, least of all himself. He looked up and realized Britt was making her way through the middle of the department like a bullet. "I gotta go." He rushed through the pleasantries and followed the blonde. Right as he reached his desk, his phone buzzed. He glanced down, but it was a number he didn't recognize. Quickly, he scanned the message.

Santana?

Keep Brittany safe? Keep Brittany under control? Fuck. What was going on? Santana was the one in cuffs. Despite his relatively cool attitude when he found his best friend knocked out cold in her apartment, Noah had some questions of his own. What the fuck was Macklin thinking? He would never allow Greene to send blues to pick up any of the department's consultants. The chief didn't roll like that, especially not with Santana and Brittany. And if Brittany wasn't such a loose cannon, Puckerman would have been the one storming through the desks on the way to Macklin's office. But as it was, he was the only chasing after the hotheaded PI before she did something very bad.

"Britt!"

Keep her safe. Easier said than done.

* * *

A knock sounded from outside the interrogation room. The officer who had been stoically staring at the wall startled from his position and moved to allow entrance. Santana's dark eyes lifted to meet the smug grin of Greene and Agnes, the FBI agent, who had been helping with the Strangler profile. Santana couldn't believe this was happening. She had a list of grievances, but her biggest one was the way the police officer hit Brittany. That one would pay.

"Detective Greene…" Santana smiled pleasantly, as if she didn't have chains tethering her to the floor by her ankles and her wrists to the table. She wanted to remind him that he had been practicing some rather unethical methods with his investigation already and she wasn't going to go down without a fight. Purposely, she hinted at their 'meeting' the other night in her hotel room. "I see you've been busy since the last time we saw each other."

But as before, Santana found goading Greene to be an impossible task. He didn't even bat an eye as he sat down at the table across from her. Barely giving Santana the satisfaction, Greene nodded. "Indeed, Miss Lopez, I have been very busy. This investigation has been in shambles since the start four years ago and even with Chief Macklin's direction, there have still been quite a few oversights on the part of this department. The last time we spoke, I told you there would be some changes – changes for both of us. And from this side of the table, it appears as if only one of us has done any changing."

Santana rolled her eyes. Honestly, who did this asshole think he was? Changes? This was the shoddiest display of police work she had ever witnessed.

"I don't care about our past conversation. I don't care about what 'oversights' you're talking about." Santana responded coolly, her voice like ice. "What I do care about is that you are holding me without any charge. You can't keep me and you certainly can't keep me in chains. So whatever kind of changes you're implementing in the department, they are illegal, unethical, and when I am out, I am going to take you to court and sue your ass so hard, you won't be able to sit without an icepack on the seat."

"Are you finished?" Greene responded, still unaffected. "I read that you do have a temper and quite a bit of aggression. And that you are a fantastic lawyer out in California. It's nice to see that some things are accurate in these reports."

"Me too." Santana sent him another faux smile. "It's nice when things are accurate. So to get back to my previous statement, how the fuck do you justify holding me like this?" The brunette lifted her hands and the chains rattled aggressively.

"You see, Ms. Lopez, it's a combination of things. But to put it bluntly, you refused to come to the station for questioning and then you assaulted a police officer. We have no choice but to treat you as such and I am still unsure if the officer plans to press charges. So until then, you are being detained." Greene shrugged, but his smirk only grew smugger. He leaned back. "It's a precautionary thing. I can't have any more of my officers in danger."

"Oh you've got to be fucking kidding me." Santana rolled her eyes. Her anger was mounting. "That's the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard and it would never stand! Where the fuck is Macklin!? I want to speak to Andy, right now."

"Are you saying there's something wrong with our police work, Ms. Lopez?" Greene asked politely ignoring her requests to see his superior.

"I didn't assault one of your officers and you fucking know it. I want that man's badge number." Santana snapped.

"Are you saying you'd like to go on record that it was PI Pierce who took a swing at Officer Peterson?" Greene raised his eyebrow in a suggestive manner. His tone was inviting and sickeningly sweet. Santana's protest stopped the moment he brought up Brittany. Suddenly his game became very clear.

Fuck.

He turned away from Santana as soon as he realized the lawyer wasn't dumb. "You see, Agent Agnes, PI Pierce does have a history of violent outbursts. I was surprised to see that it was Ms. Lopez who took a swing at our officer. I'm glad we came in here to clarify the field report."

"Wait…" Santana whispered. The wheels in her head were turning frantically as she tried to think of a way out of this mess. But every thought led to another dead-end. Her heart was racing. She could already feel the absolute knowledge of defeat welling within her. The chains around her wrists felt heavier and her breath harder to come by. The more he talked to Agnes, the more she realized how dire the situation was. Santana's whisper cracked with defeat. "Wait."

"We can talk to Officer Peterson and see if he was mistaken." Green continued talking right over her. "We can draw up the proper paperwork and have you sign off saying PI Pierce was the one who threw a punch at the officer and we'll have you out of these chains in no time." Greene said with that smirk.

Santana's stomach curled. He'd outplayed her. In fact, he'd outplayed her handedly. There hadn't even been a game. There had only been a snare. He knew Santana was trying to investigate him for Brittany. He also knew that assaulting an officer on her record would halt any type of appeal Santana might have tried to gain for control of Lucas. The only way to keep Britt's nose clean was to take the fall herself. Greene had outmaneuvered her. Checkmate.

"Stop. I did it." Santana said a little louder. It was now or never.

"What's that?"

"I said, I did it. I was the one who took a swing at the officer." She spoke through gritted teeth and her eyes were blazing, but Santana could do nothing except stare the detective down. He literally had her hands tied. If they wrote up the report on Brittany, there would be no point even trying to appeal or toss the decision the judge made on Brittany. But taking the fall would mean Greene could keep her in the station and Peterson could press charges against her.

"I thought you said there was a mistake, Ms. Lopez."

"No, I took a swing at him. Unfortunately, PI Pierce got in between our scuffle and sustained an injury."

"Well, I'm glad we could clear that up. I am unsure if the arresting officer wants to press charges, but until it's decided and we finish our own questions in regards to the Strangler case, we're going to keep you detained for processing reasons and of course, for your own safety." Greene clicked the pen in his hand. "I'm sure you understand."

"Perfectly." Santana forced the word.

"Well, I think you have everything you need to start your work, Agent Agnes, thank you for joining me." Greene easily dismissed the other woman. Agnes left with a pad of paper in her hand already scribbling down notes. Santana glanced up. What the fuck had that been all about? Once she had left, Greene signaled for the other officer to vacate the interrogation room as well. The door closed and they were alone. He reached underneath the table and turned off the switch to the camera and the voice recorder. Santana saw the red light go out and immediately felt her heart sink.

"I don't know what game you're playing, but you're fucking with a case that's _very_ important for me." Santana threateningly leaned forward across the table. "And you're fucking with people who are _very_ important to me."

"No game, Ms. Lopez. Because you see, you're fucking with something more important to me than this case – and that's my life." Greene lost his sweet disposition. His green eyes were anything but kind and understanding. It was like he could switch himself off and on at will. "I asked you very politely to stay the fuck out of my business with Pierce."

"You broke into my hotel room. Nothing about that is polite."

"It could have been much worse." Greene stated with acute coldness. Santana felt a chill go down her spine. She knew he spoke the truth. "You spied on my sister and watched Lucas. Before you ask, I had Peterson follow you around. The same guy Pierce tried to deck and is now filling out the paperwork with your name on it. Even if he hadn't been watching you, my sister called me again after you left and told me some chick was very interested in her and Lucas. We grew up in a family of cops and my father was one of the best detectives in this precinct before he passed. So with all these reports, what else was I to believe except that you didn't understand me clearly? Well, I think I've got your attention now."

"You're a fucking bastard and you know this is never going to stand when Macklin gets wind of this."

"No, he wouldn't allow it, but I really do have some questions for you Ms. Lopez. There are a few things that don't make sense with this case and all of them are connected to you. Strange since you haven't been around for the past four years, but then again, there haven't been killings for the past four years either. I'm very curious to see the new profiles the FBI are putting together because I have a feeling one of them is going to match you perfectly."

"You honestly think I have something to do with the Strangler? Are you fucking stupid? This guy killed one of my best friends and you're wasting time sucking your own dick because you can fuck with Brittany by fucking with me." Santana's chains shook. "You're fucking sick. And you're going to get more women killed by wasting all this time with me."

"We'll see." Greene stated as he stood up.

"This is a waste of time. You can only hold me for twenty-four hours or until Macklin gets back. And then what?"

"Then what? I'll keep doing my job! I didn't want to do this. This isn't fun for me. I know this will lead nowhere. The charges would never stand and I know the chief will throw it out." Greene leaned across the table. "But maybe you'll go back to doing your fucking job!"

"So that's what this is about? What's the point?"

"The point, Ms. Lopez, is to show you that I don't play games. I don't fuck around. And I'm going to do much worse than keep you in holding for a few hours if you continue meddling in my affairs. I hope this experience will be a learning one for you. Back the fuck off and we won't have to make it ugly for yourself or for Pierce." Greene felt as if he had the upper hand in the situation.

"Let me make something clear to you." Santana also leaned across the table. Their foreheads were so close, they were almost touching. Her voice was low and threatening. "Now that you've fucked with me, had one of your men hit my ex-girlfriend, and tried to derail a case involving the murder of a good friend of mine, you best believe I'm not going to stop until you're on the ground begging for mercy."

"You can try, but if you do, I will make life very difficult for a certain blonde PI I know you want to protect."

"You're a bastard and when this is done, I'm going to make sure you go down." Santana promised, the fires burning hot in her eyes, but she could do no more. Greene had outsmarted her this time. He knew it. Santana knew it. There was nothing more to add to their argument. He stood up with that sneer on his face and left. When the door to the room closed, Santana was finally left by herself.

"Fuck."

* * *

"Where's the chief?" Puck was holding Brittany back from his door. She had been banging on the wood for the past ten minutes without any success. Mack's secretary was glancing to the phone on her desk. Except it wouldn't be security she'd call, but the rest of the police in the building. He needed to get Britt under control.

"He's in a meeting with the mayor."

"When is he coming back?"

"Look Detective, I have no idea. This is a scheduled meeting to discuss task force strategy and the plans the mayor has to improve and fund the NYPD. It's very important and I doubt it will be over any time soon. I can give him a message when he returns."

"Thank you. That's all I needed to know." Puck grunted as Brittany swatted at the hand holding her midsection.

The blonde PI turned to him. "Figures, the one time I need him, Mack's in meetings with some bigwigs and not watching that little piece of shit handcuffing Santana!"

"Britt! I know it's not good, but you have to remember that we both have to keep a cool head. Greene wants you to react. He needs you to react. He gets off on it. You need to lock it up or you're going to get Santana in even more trouble and get both of us kicked out of the station. Then Santana won't have any help. You don't want to do that, right?"

"No…" Brittany muttered, but she wasn't convinced this was the best plan. Suddenly, her right eye perked at a sight across the station. Puck could see red in her eye.

He didn't have to turn around to know who she was staring down. Not good. "Remember, calm, Britt."

"Oh, I'm calm, but I'm not leaving without her."

Puck made sure he stayed practically on top of his best friend. They had to play this smart. He couldn't let Santana down by allowing Britt to fly off the handle, but he also wanted her released just as passionately as Brittany. Whatever Greene was playing, it was dirty.

"Greene." Britt growled.

"Pierce. And I'm not surprised you brought Detective Puckerman too. I heard they were missing a mutt in the K-9 unit." Greene smirked. "Can I help you with something?"

"Fuck you." Brittany promptly responded, but didn't continue with the rest of what she wanted to say. She could feel Puck squeezing her arm. No matter how much she hated it, Noah was right about keeping calm. Santana needed her and getting thrown out of the station was the fastest way to condemn her to whatever sick games Greene was playing. "Where is she? You can't keep her. She hasn't done anything."

"Oh but I can. We are charging her."

"You can't!"

"That's not what this piece of paper in my hand says." Greene held out said paper.

"What is this?"

"Her signature and confession to assaulting Officer Peterson."

"What? Did you make her sign this?" Britt crumpled the piece of paper into a ball and threw it. "It's called coercion. She would never sign this. This is bullshit. I'm the one who tried to hit him."

"Unsuccessfully." Greene cut in with that wicked grin of his. Green eyes roamed Brittany's face and his smirk brightened at the sight of the black, purple, and blue spreading throughout. "Looks like you should have tried harder."

"Hey!" Now, Puck stepped up. "You watch yourself. Don't talk to her like that."

"I remember fucking you up so bad, you had to get the entire squad to pull me off you." Brittany instantly spat back.

"Back off, Britt." Puck gently pulled his friend back from giving Greene another round.

Greene raised his hands in mock innocence and chose to ignore Brittany's rather fond memory of pummeling him. "It was just a simple observation."

"Fuck you, Derek." Puck jabbed his finger into the other detective's chest. "The chief will hear about this. You know he's friends with Santana."

"Maybe it's that friendship that's gotten in the way of a real investigation. Besides, I'm doing it all by the book. I'm keeping her here until I'm done with my questioning."

"For how long?" Puck asked. His other hand was squeezing Brittany's harder.

"As long as I can."

Brittany knew she couldn't do anything. Santana was just beyond her reach and no matter what she said or how she tried to bully Greene, it wouldn't be enough. There was nothing she could do. Overwhelmed by the inability to act, Brittany's good eye bounced up. "I want to see her."

"Why?" Greene asked.

"Because I want to. I'm still a consultant on the case."

"A consultant on probation. You shouldn't even be here right now."

"But I'm still on the case and I want to talk to her. If you don't let me, you know Macklin won't let that slide."

Greene's smirk didn't fade, but somehow it grew even most sinister, as if Brittany was doing exactly what he wanted. Despite the fact Brittany's threat worked, it felt more like she was springing a trap on herself when he gave her permission. "Fine. Go see her. It's not like she'll be much help to you while she's sitting in there."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Brittany barked at him. Help to her? Santana would be help to Brittany? That made no sense. Britt was the one trying to help her. "If you've hurt her, I'll kill you."

"It's amazing how you'd do anything for a woman who left you so broken four years ago, but you spurned a man who was willing to lose his job and livelihood just to help you." Greene shook his head in disgust. "Have at her."

Brittany wanted to respond, but once again, she was muted by her own guilt. She had been a mess when Santana had left, an absolute mess. The kind that didn't think about consequences or who she hurt in the process. She had just been trying to survive. But she was unapologetic now. Greene took it too far. She understood his anger at her, but when his anger affected Lucas and was now affecting Santana, Brittany couldn't forgive. No, he was a worse man because of it. But she had no time or emotions to spare the man. He was in the past, but Santana…she was in every time and all time. She was everything. She had been everything and after last night…Brittany's heart pattered as she replayed the words in her head. Santana would always love her.

The PI wasn't going to let her stay in the interrogation room by herself.

* * *

The door to the interrogation room rattled again, but Santana didn't want to look up. She was going through every possible scenario in her mind. There had to be a way to get out of this mess without spending the night in holding and without allowing Greene to manipulate Brittany anymore. The door shook again and Santana vaguely heard voices arguing outside about who was allowed to enter and who wasn't. Santana lifted her head up right as the door swung open.

"Britt?" Santana's heart jumped at the sight of the yellow beanie. Her dark eyes brightened for the first time in hours. Her body reacted before her mind. She had completely forgotten about the chains keeping her fettered to the table. The brunette attempted to stand up, but the metal violently tugged her back down into the chair. Surprised and immediately annoyed at her compromising position, Santana's eyes darted from Brittany's face to the chains and then back to those clear blue eyes. All of her excitement and feelings of relief quickly turned sour as she glossed over the darkening patch of black and blue surrounding her ex-lover's left eye. A sick flush ran down her face. Terrible anger raged within her, but Santana swallowed the emotions. She was doing this for Brittany. The PI couldn't lose control and that meant she couldn't lose control either. That's what Greene wanted. It was all a power play and Santana refused to lose. But by God, she wanted to cut his balls off and feed them to some alley cats. Now wasn't the time. He had the upper hand in everything. Santana's heart darkened like the bruise and small pressure cut on Britt's face. How could she have let this happen? All these thoughts rushed through her mind, but it was her bruised heart which responded first. "Are you okay? I'm sorry, Britt. I'm so sorry."

"Why are you sorry? This is all my fault. I started this shit with Greene." Brittany's eyes roved over Santana's chains. "Macklin would never allow you to be locked up like this."

"Where is he?" Santana's questions about the chief of police had been purposely avoided.

Brittany shook her head in disgust, but the PI met her eyes with a harsh stare. Something else was on her mind as she answered the question. "Appointment with the mayor. He's not here today. Even if he was...I don't think he'd be much help since you already signed a confession stating you assaulted an officer."

Santana held Brittany's fiery gaze, but she refused to look away in shame. The confession was to keep Brittany from doing something she would regret. It didn't make it any easier to meet her eyes. Santana could feel the heat coming off her partner. A few hours ago, they had been sharing that heat and Santana had willingly and recklessly thrown herself into that fire. Now, Santana was working hard to quench those same flames before her ex-lover started an uncontrollable and disastrous wildfire. At least if Brittany's ire was directed at her, it would keep her from exploding on Greene or another officer. Santana simply stated. "I did."

"What the fuck?" Brittany growled. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I took a swing at the officer." Santana reiterated the lie she had signed off on for Greene. "I'm sorry you got in the way and ended up getting hurt. I really am."

Lies. All lies. She was the one who tried to hit Peterson. Brittany didn't understand. "What are you doing?"

"Just let it go. Okay, B?" Santana's eyes softened as she tried to make Brittany understand. "Please. Just let it go and trust me."

"If that's all he has to hold you, why are you letting him?" Brittany's voice didn't contain the same amount of anger, but she felt completely at a loss. If anyone should be locked up, it should be her, not Santana.

"Trust me."

It rubbed her the wrong way. Brittany didn't want to trust Santana. She didn't want to see her in chains. She didn't want to let Greene get away with whatever tricks he was playing. And she certainly didn't want to leave Santana here. Not like this. Not taking the fall for her.

"Please don't do this. Not for me." Blue eyes finally cleared as Britt realized Santana wasn't going to budge on this. "Whatever he has on you, it's not worth it."

Santana choked back emotions, but her eyes did little to hide how much she thought Brittany was worth. Whatever he had on her? He only had Brittany.

"It is." Santana stopped herself from saying 'she'.

Britt had no idea what Santana was thinking, but she knew that look in her eyes and the tone of her voice. "Then I trust you."

The blonde fidgeted at the door and Santana could tell Brittany wasn't at ease with her decision to trust the Latina. Santana knew the feeling. She would be reacting the same way. If the roles were reversed, she would say okay, and then leave to do something reckless to get Brittany out of chains. That was the one thing Santana needed to prevent.

"Come here." Santana cooed from her chair. She inched it out from the table as far as the chains allowed as an invitation for Brittany to come closer.

"I don't like it."

"I don't either. Just let me take care of it. Okay?" Santana tried to reason with her again. The blonde was still at the door. "Just come here."

Brittany played with the yellow beanie on her head before she walked in front of Santana. Her bright blue eyes stared down into those dark ones like they had hours ago in the darkness of her apartment.

"Come down here. I can't reach you up there." Santana said with an amusedly exasperated smile. The blonde scrunched the part of her face that wasn't swollen. But she knelt down between Santana's legs so their eyes were almost level. For a few seconds, they said nothing. They didn't have to. Santana's eyes roved over her ex-girlfriend's face, closely studying the dark bruise, and the cut above her eyebrow. Anger was an underwhelming feeling for the rage boiling in Santana at the sight of Britt like this. Officer Peterson would rue the day he threw his fist into Santana's ex-lover's face, but she couldn't express any of that. She needed to keep Brittany with her. She needed to keep the PI focused on her and no one else in the department. "You're still an absolute mess."

Britt snorted through her nose with amusement. Her blue eyes met Santana's beneath long eyelashes. A smile broke with the memory of the last time Santana had called her that in Dr. Mitchell's lab downstairs after she had wrecked her knuckles on Chester's face.

"Does it hurt?" Santana questioned softly. The tips of her fingers reached out through the space between them and gently touched the underside of Brittany's chin, still too nervous to touch the actual source of Brittany's pain. That was one thing Santana didn't want. She didn't want to be the cause of any more pain – not for Brittany.

The blonde sucked in a short breath as Santana touched her. Last night had been surreal – hot, heavy, and emotions had been just as visceral as the physical, but they never talked or had time to process what happened between them. Santana's touch – was like a seal. Whatever happened last night had been real. So real. Already lost in her eyes, Brittany tried to focus on Santana's question, but she could feel herself falling and falling back into the couch, on the floor, into Santana's arms, into her eyes, her voice, her body, her everything. Softly, she responded in a hushed whisper. "Not right now."

Without explanation, Santana knew exactly where Brittany's mind was wandering and why at this particular moment nothing could be painful. She chose not to respond to the same images playing through her own mind. Last night had been… She couldn't articulate a single emotion because there were so many. Her heart skipped a few beats as their eyes conveyed more feelings than words. Santana's hands moved up Brittany's face and her fingers ran along her cheekbone. The blonde hissed, but didn't break eye contact. Santana wanted to be able to heal the wounds, the hurt, and the pain, but Brittany's eye was still swollen and the dark around her eye was only growing darker. Finally, her finger gingerly ran along the top of her eye where dried blood sealed the small cut. "I don't have any band-aids."

"It's okay."

"I want you to get this cleaned up when you leave here." Santana compassionately mandated and pulled back.

Brittany instantly wanted Santana's hands back on her. She nodded. "I'm not going to give up trying to get you out of here soon."

"I know, Britt, just let me try it my way first."

The door to the interrogation room opened and Brittany stood up. The officer who had been in the room with Santana before stood there.

"Sorry, Pierce, but Greene wants you cleared out so he can start questioning. And he wants to know if you need a lawyer, Ms. Lopez."

Santana rolled her eyes. "He knows I'm a lawyer."

"So that's a no?"

Santana just glared at him.

"I can stay with you instead."

"Detective Greene thought you might say that so he said you're welcome to observe behind the glass."

"My way, okay?" Santana looked up. "I'll be fine."

"I don't like it."

"You keep saying that, but I'll be better knowing you're over there watching me." Her eyes flicked to the one-way mirror to emphasize her point.

Brittany nodded and lingered for a second.

"Pierce?"

"Yeah, I'm coming." Brittany pulled down the yellow beanie over her head further and followed the officer out of the room. Santana released a deep and unstable sigh. Her body was shaking and she wasn't sure if it was the impending questioning or the woman who had just left her. They still had so much to talk about – things they hadn't said. But, once again, their relationship would have to wait. Santana cleared her mind and steeled herself for Greene. Whatever his motive, Santana was starting to understand his methods and she needed to be at the top of her game.

* * *

Britt stood at the glass. Her hands were playing with the yellow beanie. Sometime during her pacing, she had slid the beanie off her head and crumbled it into a ball in her hands. Her fingers dug into the small holes of the knitting. The glass seemed especially cruel today. She had been on both sides of the interrogation room before, but never with someone she cared about so deeply. Not like this. They had been sitting there for a few moments. Greene, Agnes, Santana, and the police officer stationed to make sure Santana didn't give the detective any trouble.

"What could he possibly want to question her about?" Britt's hot breath covered the glass. It fogged up with all her anxieties.

"I don't know, Britt." Puck answered. They had been waiting for Greene to start for what seemed like forever.

"She has nothing to do with anything. Or any of this. If he wants to fuck with someone, why can't he just fuck with me?" Brittany scratched at the band-aid across the top of her eye. The swelling had gone down enough that she could start to see from the injured eye.

Puck looked over at his friend and her question. He understood her ministrations and her frustration, but how could Brittany even ask that question? The fastest way to fuck with Brittany was to fuck with Santana. The blonde PI was a jittery, angry, and temperamental mess.

Cold metal slapped on the top of the table in the interrogation room and pulled Puck's eyes back to his other friend.

"We found this nifty little blade in your belongings when you were brought in, Ms. Lopez." Greene stated flatly. Both Britt and Noah pressed their faces to the glass to get a better look at the object. "Care to explain what you're doing with a knife like this? It looks like it could do some real damage."

"In case you didn't know, I've been receiving some very disturbing threats."

"From the Strangler?" Agnes, the FBI agent prompted. "You're talking about the notes and postcard?"

"Among others." Santana looked directly at Greene.

But he brushed her stare off and continued to spin the baggie with the knife. "You know, there have been many different blades used on the Strangler victims, causing all different types of cuts and the killer doesn't seem to have a preference for any particular blade he uses. Or maybe, I should start saying she uses?"

"So?"

"This blade appears to be unused. Could be you're planning for a new kill?"

"Are you-" She started, but contained her anger before continuing very calmly. "Circumstantial. Is this really all you've got because this is weak as hell." Santana leaned back in the chair and rolled her eyes.

"No." Greene passed the bag with the knife to the officer. "Send that for processing."

"Honestly, just let me go already so you can continue trying to catch the guy who _actually_ killed my friend."

"Since you brought her up-" Greene shuffled some papers on the desk and found the ones he was looking for. "-let's talk about your friend, Rachel Berry."

Santana's body position shifted on the chair and her eyes darted to the doubled glass for a brief moment. Brittany's body tensed. "Why are they asking her about Rachel?"

"It's routine."

"But she doesn't talk about Rachel. Why would he do that? This is just cruel." Brittany's fingers pressed harder against the glass. After Felicia's near-death and the blood all over Santana's hands, she had never been the same. She had begged Brittany to stop with the investigation. There were times when Brittany would catch Santana looking at her hands and Britt could only imagine the blood Santana saw. One night, Santana confessed whenever she dreamed, it was always Rachel's body on the ground and her blood on Santana's hands. Guilt washed over Brittany as she remembered how distant she had been for Santana. The PI had been too busy trying to track down leads to give Santana the comfort she needed.

"When she died, you and PI Pierce came upon some privileged information regarding her death and her assailant."

"I wouldn't call it privileged."

"But you were at the time spying on her."

"No, we were watching her for a friend. He was curious where she was going."

"Was this friend a boyfriend?"

"No, her best gay friend. They lived together. We all knew each other from high school."

"And so when you brought information to the police station regarding her death, were you in any way interrogated or questioned about your relationship with Rachel Berry?"

"No, we were too busy trying to track down her killer."

"You see…" Greene pulled out a rather large case folder. Brittany caught a glimpse of the picture on the top of it and frowned. "PI Pierce has gone through extensive psychological evaluations and counseling sessions since your friend's death, but I have no record of such for you."

"And that means what?" Santana could feel her anger rising. She didn't like where Greene was going with this.

He ignored her question and continued. "The last time I see any records of such evaluations for yourself, Ms. Lopez, is from high school."

"I was a minor. You shouldn't have those records."

"Expunged. I'm sure you understand how such legal processes work." Greene dismissed her objection. "You keep saying your _friend_, Rachel Berry, but according to these reports, I'd say _friend _is a rather loose word to use for your relationship. There are incidents of violent outbursts from you, bullying, an inability to stay in a club with any consistency, every time you were sent to the principal's office, you claimed another personality told you to act out. One by the name of Snix. These are all very disturbing signs, Ms. Lopez."

"Oh-my-God." Santana drew out the words ,trying to stop herself from unleashing on this prick. "Are you fucking kidding me? I was a fucking kid. A very confused and angry fucking kid and you're using all this shit from high school to what end? I didn't kill my friend!"

"Friend! You said it again! But according to these records you were anything _but_ a friend to Rachel Berry! In fact, I have here that you slapped her boyfriend in the auditorium in front of your peers. Those are some serious anger issues."

"All from high school. Rachel and I got over all that. She wasn't even dating that kid by the time we got to New York."

"I wouldn't be dating her either if I knew you'd be around."

"There are all sorts of people talking about your anger issues and the way you lashed out in school. And what? I'm supposed to believe all those problems went away when you came to New York? What you leave Bumblefuck, Ohio and suddenly everything is rainbows and fairy tales for you Ohio folk?" Greene's voice was rising. "Clearly that's not the way it ended for Rachel Berry! Rachel Berry who is buried six feet under! Rachel Berry whose throat was slashed and her vocal chords ripped out! Rachel Berry who you never liked and who was never your friend-" He threw down the crime scene photo of Rachel's lifeless corpse on the table. "Rachel Berry, buried in a grave that you still haven't visited!" Another picture.

Blood.

Another picture.

Another.

And Another.

Blood everywhere. Santana closed her eyes and tried to push the photographs away. But she could see the blood everywhere. Red. Red. Red. Even though she never saw Rachel's body for herself, she had seen Felicia's body lying in the street, rivers of life flowing from her neck. All the blood and she couldn't stop it.

"Fuck you!" Santana violently pushed all the pictures back across the table and tried to stand up. "You don't understand anything. Whoever killed her took everything! When she died, everything fell apart and you have the nerve to tell me about her when you didn't even know her! Fuck you! Get the fuck out of here! Get the fuck out!"

The one-way mirror was quaking. Dark eyes flashed to the glass as she suddenly remembered Brittany was there. The everything that had fallen apart for Santana had been the woman on the other side of the glass. They had fallen apart. Rachel's death had been so sudden, so violent; it had torn apart everything connected to her. Santana sat back in her chair and took deep breaths. Eventually the mirror stopped rocking. And the room once again regained some semblance of control.

"I've been waiting for that loose temper of yours. You've been very controlled, even during your arrest, minus that little incident with Officer Peterson." Greene hadn't budged from his chair, but he did start to slowly gather all the pictures Santana's fury had scattered. "You see, I knew you had more rage boiling in you than you let on. You are a very deceptive person, Ms. Lopez, and if I have any understanding of you, as I think I am starting to, you are very good at hiding emotions."

Santana sat fuming in her seat. She was pissed at herself for allowing Greene to get to her, but she hadn't expected the onslaught of Rachel's body laid out for her. She hadn't expected an attack to her like that.

"He's tearing her apart in there." Brittany was shaking. Her hands were clenched against the glass and her eyes were riveted to Santana. The PI had rattled the glass in anger at Greene's merciless attack. "This is cruel. What does he have to gain by doing this?"

Puckerman's frownhad deepened to hard lines in his face. Cruel was an understatement. Greene was being downright inhumane. If only he still had the authority to take control of this case, he would stop this immediately.

"Why is she letting him do this? She doesn't have to stay in there! She's not the one who tried to hit that piece of shit, Peterson. It's all my fucking fault." Brittany kicked at a chair in the observation room. "She should have never been involved with Greene. This is all my fault."

Noah reached out to comfort her. "Britt, I don't know what she's doing, but this is Santana, so you know she has a plan. She'll be okay."

"But it's not okay and she's not doing anything to help herself! She's letting him do this because of me!" Brittany's grip on the beanie in her hand tightened. "Fuck! She's a fucking lawyer! I'm sure she knows some way out of this and she's not taking it!"

"She has another plan!" Puck tried to reason, but his eyes glanced back to the room. Did she? What was she doing?

"If she's not going to help herself, Noah, I have to do something! I can't just let her stay in there and get grilled by that prick."

"She said not to get involved, Britt. She asked you to trust her!"

"How can I? It's like a firing squad in there. She has a way out and she's not taking it and she's not listening to me!"

"She's always been stubborn."

"No, this isn't stubborn. This is something else. There has to be something we can do!"

Greene was placing his papers away and Agnes was making more notes on her pad. He stood up from the table. "This has been a rather enlightening session, Ms. Lopez. I think we are definitely beginning to understand each other better, but I think some time to cool off would be beneficial for all of us." His eyes shifted to the mirror where they all knew Brittany just had an episode behind the glass. "We will be keeping you in holding for the night and then we can continue this discussion tomorrow and decide if we are going to pursue the assault charges."

"Can't wait." Santana smiled with insincere pleasantries.

"I'm happy we both agree on something." Greene opened the door to the interrogation room. "Make sure Ms. Lopez is put through processing and in one of the holding cells."

The officer nodded.

"Tomorrow should be a fantastic time." Santana cooed from her seat as the door closed, but it was unclear if Greene heard her or not. The moment she was left alone, Santana's eyes immediately shifted to the one-way mirror. Even if she couldn't see Brittany, she knew the blonde was there. She was definitely there.

* * *

Britt had stopped ranting long enough to notice the lack of Greene in the room. Her fingers silently ran down the smooth surface of the glass, but the cold plane didn't hold the same feel as Santana's skin. The glass didn't set her heart aflame or her skin tingling. But those eyes – the eyes seeking her, those eyes held her still. And even though Santana didn't know where she was, Brittany felt as if those dark eyes could penetrate the barrier between them. The moment lasted for only a second before Santana's chains were disconnected from the table and the officer was escorting her out for processing.

"We can't let him do this, Puck. We can't let her do this to herself!" Britt snarled and paced around the room.

"Britt, maybe we should go for a walk or something. I don't think it's good for you to be in here right now."

"Fuck you." But she immediately regretted it. Puck wasn't the problem, he was trying to help. "Maybe you're right. I need a smoke anyway."

"I'll come with."

"No, it's fine." Brittany waved him off and grabbed Santana's jacket on her way out of the observation room. If people were staring at her as she left, Brittany didn't notice. Her thoughts were consumed with Santana. Immense guilt filled her. This was her problem. She was the reason Greene was trying to break Santana. And to what end? All he would gain was a very pissed off PI, but that's what he wanted. Brittany hit the street and popped a cigarette in her mouth.

She shoved her hands deep into Santana's jacket trying to locate her lighter. There had to be some way to get Santana out without creating a new mess of problems and without breaking Santana's trust.

Where was her fucking lighter?

Brittany dug around the pockets, but couldn't find it. Fuck. Of course. No lighter. It wasn't her jacket she was wearing. She opened the jacket and reached into the inner breast pocket. Her fingers ran along a sharp edge. It wasn't a lighter, but it piqued her interest. Brittany pulled out the object out.

It was Santana's business card for her law firm.

Brittany flipped it over a few times. Her eyes ran over the gold inlay of Santana Lopez. No matter how many times she read her ex-girlfriend's name, no new ideas came to her. It was useless. Greene would get to finish his interrogation tomorrow. She almost put the card away when she saw the phone number to the firm.

If Santana wouldn't listen to her or save herself from Greene, maybe someone else would do it?

Santana didn't come back to New York on her own violation, but her boss had been the one to send her. That Terry guy Santana was always calling or texting or whatever had been the one with the power. He would be pissed to learn his lawyer was currently in a holding cell and being interrogated especially when Britt was sure this Terry was friends with the one of the DAs. Brittany pulled out her cell phone.

"Law Offices of Matthews, Matthews, and Terrance. Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I'm trying to get a hold of Terry." Brittany tried.

"I'm sorry, but Terry is with a client at the moment. Can I take a message?"

"Make sure you are very clear when you tell Terry that Santana Lopez has been arrested in New York and is unable to defend herself and needs a lawyer or some common sense."

"What?" The secretary couldn't contain the disbelief in her voice. "Are you sure? Our Santana Lopez? She's a lawyer here. She's unable to defend herself?"

"Yes."

"I'll give the message right away."

"Thanks."

Brittany hung up the phone and found the lighter in her jeans pocket. She didn't know what she just did, but she felt better knowing she had done something.

* * *

**Thanks again for all the reviews for both **_**Sirens**_** and **_**IIAC**_**! I hope you all enjoy a great week! :D**


	23. Chapter 23

**Sorry I haven't posted in awhile. This was a big break for me. I've been super busy. So I made the chapter a little longer than usual. **

**Again, thanks for all the reviews, especially those of you who review every chapter or send me a message. I just wanted to give a big welcome to all the new readers who left me some love or alerted **_**Sirens**_**. I guess I should give out my end of semester warning. It's the last month of the semester coming up so that means either a shit ton of procrastinating and more chapters, or the opposite. Ugh. Sometimes I hate me. Hahaha. **

**Also fair warning, we are heading into the tail end of part 2 so expect cliffhangers, twists, turns, and new developments all over the place. I know, you're probably wondering how many more I could possibly have! I am too. ;) **

**But before I give away any more plot details, I should just give you…**

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 23**

_Rain had been pounding all day long. It hit the sidewalks and cement. It bounced downstairs and ricocheted off metal hoods. People huddled under the edges of awnings and where the tops of buildings created just enough space to take shelter from the down pour. Umbrellas were out, but not many. It was a surprise shower - one that had taken the bright summer day and turned the clouds grey. _

_Grey. Wet. Cold. _

_But happy. Very happy._

_In fact, she couldn't remember a time when life seemed better. Santana ran down the street with her messenger bag over her head, not that it did much to keep the rain from her hair. Luckily there weren't many people in her way as she sprinted toward the place they called their second home. Santana wasn't one to admit when she was wrong, but she also knew Brittany was always right. So when Britt had said the old warehouse no one cared about on the corner of nothing and on this-will-never-work Street, Santana had been more than skeptical. But like all things, Brittany had proven her wrong. Again._

_After all the paperwork had been filled out and money exchanged, Brittany and Santana became the proud owners of a crumbling building and the realization their dreams were just beginning to come true. A smile tugged at the edges of her mouth at the thought of their dreams. College had always been a focus for her. Even if she didn't always get along with her parents, Santana's upbringing emphasized the importance of education. She had never even thought of law school until she got into a heated argument in class during her undergrad. Then it was only a matter of time. Santana had the grades and the drive. And she had the girl of her dreams. _

_Brittany and school had never understood each other. Well…school had never really understood Brittany. Not the way Santana did. So the blonde had no interest in going to college. Instead, with the trust fund from her parents' life insurance, Brittany wanted to start a dance studio and investigative business. According to Brittany's intuition and Santana's fact checking, it was the first and only investigative dancing studio in the state. It was a fact Brittany loved. So Santana had it placed on the business cards she had specially made for her girlfriend._

_Even now, in the rain and the miserable weather, running to the studio felt like home. _

_Cars were in the parking lot, which meant there was still a class going on. Santana didn't remember Brittany mentioning a class this late in the afternoon. _

_The overhang of the building provided a welcomed relief from the rain as Santana ducked and pushed open the doors to the studio. It wasn't Brittany's class, but it was a familiar face she saw through the glass of the studio. A smile softly graced her lips. _

_Mike didn't come around very often. But when he did, he always somehow managed to snag a dance class at the studio. He was in and out of New York at various times. He had landed a pretty nice backup dancer gig and toured around the states so every once and awhile he would show up. It was great for business, but even better for Brittany. He caught her eyes from inside the dance room and motioned for her to come in. Santana glanced down the hallway. Brittany would be that way. Santana had wanted to surprise her girlfriend. Class had been canceled, but Santana hadn't told Britt. She was hoping they could spend an afternoon together. But if the blonde wasn't out here dancing with Mike, it meant Britt was probably meeting with someone or perhaps reviewing something for the investigative part of her studio. Mike waved his hands back to her in between some choreography, he was trying to get her to come into the studio. Even a few of the students realized their instructor was distracted. They turned around and glanced to the mirror. Kurt was in the front row. Now Santana rolled her eyes. What was he doing here?_

_They were both enthusiastically signaling that she should join them. What would it hurt? She opened the doors to the studio and dropped her messenger bag to the side with a smile. Brittany would find her. It wasn't like she would have to wait for long. _

* * *

"You can't see her." Puck explained for the seventh time. "You can't just walk up to the bars with a harmonica and play music to her all night like in a cowboy movie, Britt." Even though he had patiently explained this over and over again, Puckerman could see it in Brittany's eyes. She didn't _want_ to understand. "There are procedures and protocols we have to follow." Puck sighed. "Even if we both know she doesn't belong in there."

"So I just have to wait?" Brittany was pacing back and forth at Puck's desk. She scratched at the band-aid above her eye with impatience. That was not the answer she wanted to hear from Puck. But at least her eye was back to normal. Well, the swelling had gone down enough that she could completely see from both eyes now. The bruise was only starting to form. It would turn all shades of colors before it would eventually go away. Brittany refused to look in a mirror. She didn't need to know how fucked up she looked. Besides, Noah glanced to the bruise every other sentence and that was enough to remind her how bad she must appear.

"Yeah, Britt."

"That's bullshit." The hat in Brittany's hand crumbled even further into a ball. Her hair was unusually disheveled, even for her, but Puck told himself it was probably from the stress.

"Any word from Mack?"

"No."

"It's almost fucking midnight. Santana's been in holding for hours and he can't answer his fucking phone?" Brittany growled.

"I'm not his personal secretary, Brittany! How am I supposed to know what's going on with him?"

"Fuck." Brittany paced in front of his desk. She was driving herself nuts and definitely not doing anything for Noah's nerves. They had been waiting for some word from Macklin for hours and hours without any resolution. It was maddening.

But tiring.

All the stress of the day and the finality of Macklin's absence had taken their toll on Puck and even Britt. But unlike the PI, Detective Puckerman could barely keep his eyes open.

"Britt, you need to sit down or decide what you're doing because you're driving me insane."

"I can't fucking sit down."

"Well lay down!" Puck bit back at her. Not many people were left in the office. "You look like you're going to pass out. Let me take you back to my place or whatever. You can sleep there and we can sort this all out tomorrow."

He regretted the words the moment they exited his mouth. The look Brittany shot him could have easily hit him like a bullet. Puck coughed a little and rubbed the top of his head.

"You want me to do what?" Brittany's blue eyes flashed daring him to repeat his suggestion.

"Britt…I just want what's best for you. You're no good if you're completely exhausted." Noah tried to take back the words he had already said. "You know I didn't mean to say-"

"What did you mean to say?" She cut him off.

"I mean that you need to take care of yourself. At least we know Santana will be safe from the Strangler while she's in there."

Bristled, the PI brushed him off. "Go home, Noah."

"Britt…"

"No, it's fine. Go home. Get some sleep. Call your girlfriend." Brittany grabbed Santana's jacket and started to walk away from Puck's desk.

"Where are you going?"

Not to Puck's apartment and definitely not to her apartment. Brittany couldn't do this. She moved through the relatively quiet department toward the holding cells. She didn't care what Noah had told her multiple times.

"Where are you going?" Puck called back to her again. He stood up from his desk. "It's not like you can see her!"

"Go home, Noah." Brittany let the door slam behind her as she exited the area. She still had a few friends in the department. At least, she hoped they were still friends.

* * *

"_Thank you so much for seeing me today."_

"_Not a problem. I think your husband would be a great fit in our special class."_

"_He's really terrible." _

"_Trust me. I've seen worse." Brittany smile pleasantly. Her eyes wandered to the clock on the wall in her office. Mike had taken over her class for the afternoon, but she was still hoping to get some time with him and the maybe participate in a class she didn't have to teach. _

"_So I can bring him here? It's for our twenty-five year anniversary and he refused to dance for our actual wedding so he's going to make me happy this time."_

"_No problem." The blonde dancer winked at her new client. "I can sign him up for our "Hopelessly Finning Around" class every Tuesday and Thursday."_

"_Perfect." The woman stood up from her seat and Brittany stood up with her. The office that had been full of cobwebs, broken furniture, and dust had been fully transformed into an office Britt used for both the dance studio and to see clients for LT: PI. Funny how Sue had called it a "side-hustle" all those years ago in her office at McKinley High School and now Brittany couldn't imagine her life without LT:PI. _

"_I'll whip him into shape in no time." Brittany helped the woman to the end of the office and bid her good-bye. Finally alone, Brittany looked once again at the clock on the wall. Santana would still be in class. _

_She gathered her gym bag from the closet and quickly changed into some sweats and a tank. Mike should be finishing up so maybe she could convince him to stick around for a little one on one session. She skipped down the long hallway of the studio and passed a few students who were already heading to the locker rooms to change or shower. Most of them knew her and gave her a wave or a smile. A few even commented on Mike's teaching style and expressed desire that he should come around more often. Brittany didn't have the heart to tell them that he had been dating Tina since high school, so she doubted he would be interested in going to the bar after class sometime. But Brittany agreed Mike was definitely the best kind of eye candy to inspire the most effort in class. _

_Brittany walked down the halls and past the glass windows of the studio. Her hand touched the glass for a moment, but paused before she pushed open the door._

"_See you next class, Brittany."_

"_Bye, Ms. Pierce."_

"_I loved Mike! Can he teach more?"_

"_I think your girlfriend's here." Another girl said as they passed her on their way to change. But Brittany had already figured that out._

_Her bright blue eyes were glued to the dark hair swinging wildly in the dance studio. Mike was teaching Santana the new moves he had been doing during the lesson. Santana was smiling and laughing as Mike popped and waited for her to follow his steps. After messing up the first count, Mike recounted for her and she nailed it perfectly. She tossed some strands of hair from her face with another laugh. Her dark eyes were sparking in the mirror, but Santana had yet to realize she had an audience. Mike glanced up for a second and made eye contact with Brittany, but Britt waved him off. It had been forever since she had seen Santana like this. _

_After high school and glee club, Santana had focused on school. It left little time for her to come to the studio to dance or even sing like she used to. Brittany knew Santana missed the singing – that hadn't been a secret. She missed it so much that Brittany laughed every time Santana "moaned" about going to another karaoke night with Rachel. Britt would pretend to commiserate with her girlfriend, but they both knew Santana looked forward to those nights more than anything. What Brittany hadn't realized was how much Santana missed just dancing. It was obviously in every step her girlfriend took. _

_Brittany pressed her fingers to the glass and smiled softly to herself. She could watch Santana dance forever. _

* * *

"Don't do anything stupid, Pierce."

Brittany's teeth gritted, but she didn't respond to the obvious taunt. Calm. Calm. Calm. Puck said to be calm. Santana said to be calm. Everything that made sense in her life told her to be calm. But it wasn't easy.

"Not here to do something stupid." Brittany pushed passed one of the guys she knew hung around Greene. She had a feeling Greene had asked a few of his buddies to watch her at the precinct. Whatever.

"Where you going?"

"To get some sleep."

"Not here." He stood in front of her. Brittany glanced behind his head to where she knew the holding cells were. Now would be the time to attack him. There were a few guys around. If she threw a punch at Greene's man, she would definitely be thrown into holding. If she was in holding than she would be with Santana. Sure, they would be in separate cells, but at least Santana would have someone. Her fingers stretched out and curled into a fist. No, it wouldn't be what her ex-girlfriend wanted, but Brittany was going crazy doing nothing. She needed to do something. Terry had yet to call back or respond. It had been a longshot anyway. Terry didn't know or owe Brittany anything.

She took a deep breath and told herself this was definitely the right decision. But she didn't move. Brittany swallowed. Santana didn't want this.

She released her fist and pulled at the strands of knitting coming undone on her yellow beanie. "Of course, I'm not sleeping here. Fuck you."

"Get out of here, Pierce."

"Love to." Brittany turned around with regret that she couldn't go through with her plan. But deep down, she knew Santana would be proud of her. And that feeling was better than knowing she could have gotten herself thrown into a jail cell with her ex-lover. She walked through the hallways of the building. There were quite a few officers Brittany didn't recognize because they worked different shifts than Puckerman, but no one questioned her presence.

She made her way down the hallway to a place she hadn't really hung out very often. In fact, it felt out of place in a police building. The door didn't have a label, but she knew what was inside because she had quite a few tours of the place in the years she had spent either in Macklin's good graces or desperately trying to scrap something together without his blessings.

_Security_

She knocked on the door. It didn't open up right away, but she heard a chair rolling on the floor before a rattle on the lock.

"Pierce?"

"Hey. Can I come in?"

"Sure." The younger man rolled out of her way and pulled over the other chair in the room. He smiled, but was one of the few guys not affected by her charm. In fact, that was one of the reasons they had hit it off. "Whatcha doing here?"

His eyes were already back on the monitors.

"Nothing."

"Liar." He said with a smirk into the screen. "I saw your almost fight with Greene today and that girl in interrogation."

He tapped at one of the monitors that overlooked the office area where Brittany had confronted Derek about Santana's imprisonment.

"You really do see everything."

"Almost. Not that there's much to see in a police department. Mostly people pushing papers and talking to each other. So your fight today was definitely the highlight of my week."

Brittany smiled pleasantly at his attempt of small talk, but her blue eyes were already on the screens too.

"Are you looking for her?"

"Huh?" Brittany didn't realize that her friend had turned away from his monitors to stare at her. Maybe he wasn't just good at looking, but good at observing too.

"Here." He flipped a couple of switches and buttons. Most of the monitors flicked to a single station all at the same time. Brittany was no longer looking at the coffee break room or the desks, but inside the holding cells. Santana was curled in a ball on a cot. Her dark hair spread down her back and her face was toward the cinder block wall. Brittany wasn't sure if she was sleeping, but her chest rose and fell in even breaths.

A wave of relief washed over the PI.

"She's okay." Her buddy assured Brittany.

"Yeah…" Brittany said the word, barely pushing it from her lips. Her eyes were still glued to the monitor.

"Look, I've got a break coming up. I can trust you in here, right?"

Brittany didn't even respond, but she nodded her head up and down. The kid really was a good guy. He didn't have to help her, but the door closed and Brittany knew she was alone.

What was she doing?

What were they doing?

When did everything get so fucked up? It wasn't just Santana or Greene or Lucas or the Strangler. It was all of it combined. It seemed like the world was spinning madly out of control. It felt like a night of alcohol and dancing, but without the pleasure in between. It was just utter madness. But here, sitting and seeing that Santana was okay, Britt felt like she could finally relax again. Santana turned over on the bed. Her dark eyes made contact with the camera in the corner of her cell. Brittany felt her heart skip.

* * *

_Brittany didn't expect Santana to turn around so suddenly. In fact, Brittany had forgotten about everything while she watched her girlfriend mirroring Mike's moves. Dark eyes met hers through the glass. Her heart stopped and then sped up. No one made her feel the way Santana did - no one or anything – not even dancing or solving some case for a client. Only Santana. It wasn't hard to imagine, because Brittany knew it was true; she was going to spend the rest of her life with her. _

_Santana winked through the glass with that smile Brittany knew was only for her. Her face scrunched up and her eyes lit up. The lawyer-to-be flipped her hand up and bit her bottom lip. Those luscious lips Brittany could kiss forever mouthed her name and beckoned her to join them in the studio. Brittany didn't know why she was laughing. She just knew that Santana made everything inside her tingle. The blonde dancer opened the doors to the studio and jumped into the space behind her girlfriend. _

_Mike said a hello before he turned the music back on. _

_And before Brittany could move next to her girlfriend, Santana's hands grasped hers and moved them down to her hips. Britt smirked as she pressed into Santana's backside._

"_Good thing you're here, babe." Santana leaned back just enough so Mike couldn't hear her. "Mike's been kicking my ass. I definitely needed some one-on-one instruction."_

"_What kind of one-on-one are you talking about?" Britt leaned down. Her mouth pushed through thick dark hair to the inside of Santana's ear. She didn't care how much Santana complained about their height difference, Brittany absolutely loved holding Santana's like this. _

"_I don't think I'm moving my hips right." Santana whispered back. _

_Mike was already onto the second set, but Santana hadn't even finished the first. He glanced over to the two girls in the mirror before rolling his eyes and pretending he didn't see anything. The two women didn't care. Their eyes were completely lost in each other's in the mirror. _

"_I think I can help with that." Brittany spread her fingers across Santana's hips. She found a solid grip on her hip bones and pulled her girlfriend's backside closer to her. Their bodies moved as one. Santana sighed content in her girlfriend's embrace. Brittany couldn't have been happier. "I love you."_

"_Love you too." Santana whispered back._

"_Okay, you two done yet?" Mike finally felt the need to break up the tension in the room. "Because I came here to dance."_

_Laughing, Brittany flipped her right hand up and twirled Santana out from her body. The brunette gracefully spun away. Mike turned up the volume for the music and Brittany fell in line with the other two. But her bright blue eyes found Santana's in the mirror for a spilt second and she knew with absolute certainty, Santana loved her. _

* * *

"Hey-" Someone touched her shoulder.

"Hey, Pierce…" The touching continued.

"Brittany…" Brittany slowly opened her eyes and adjusted to the light of the security booth. Her friend was sitting there with a coffee in his hand and a smile for her. She didn't remember falling asleep. The last thing she remembered was Santana's dark eyes gazing into hers from the mirror or was it the lens of the camera. She closed her eyes for a second. She had been dreaming or remembering the mirror. That had been an old memory, one she hadn't thought of in forever. She must have dozed off.

"What time is it?" This time when she opened her eyes, Brittany looked back to the monitors. But Santana wasn't in the cell anymore. Panic ripped through her chest. She got up from the chair. Santana's leather jacket that she had used as a blanket fell to the ground. "Where is she?"

"Calm down. It's okay. You've been sleeping all night." He tried to get her to take a breath, but it was hard. "That's what I wanted to tell you. Some crazy lawyer from California got here around eight in the morning and has been tearing up the department. The chief's back and Detective Puckerman is raising hell."

"What?" Brittany glanced to the monitors and then to the clock on the wall. It was 8:30. She couldn't believe she had even slept a little. "I need to go. Where is she?"

"Interrogation room three."

Brittany, still dressed in the outfit she had worn after sleeping with Santana in her apartment two night ago, burst from the security room. People were moving around the department. She needed to find Santana. She had to be released. Her heart was hammering. She couldn't believe that it had worked. Terry got her message. It worked. It worked and she didn't get into a fight with Greene or betray Santana's trust. Puck's desk was empty. Macklin's office was closed and the shades were down, but there were lights on. The chief was back and that meant she'd get to see Greene chewed out.

She practically vaulted over desks and around people as she ran through the department. As she rounded the corner, she didn't see the guard at the room like he had been yesterday. That had to be a good sign since it meant Santana wasn't in custody anymore. Brittany yanked the door open expecting to see Santana.

But.

No.

This wasn't-

Brittany didn't understand. Her heart fell. Her hands gripped the handle of the door and her throat constricted.

Santana's forehead pressed against another woman's shoulders. They were holding each other intimately. Santana's fingers gripped the back of a jacket and tangled into short and stylish amber hair. Brittany didn't have to the see the next moment to know what her body instinctively had known the moment she walked in on the scene.

Santana lifted her head from the woman's shoulder and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

"I can't believe you're here." Santana stated with a soft smile. "How did you know?"

Brittany's chest tightened harder and harder. She couldn't react, she couldn't move. So stunned, the PI wasn't sure if she was upset, distraught, angry, indifferent, or hurt – everything was numb.

"My secretary said someone left a 911 message about you getting into a shit ton of trouble in New York." The woman smirked. "Besides you stole one of my biggest and reckless clients away with you. I still haven't heard from Tim, but I haven't seen him in the newspapers either, so I suppose that's good."

"Who called-" Santana's voice cut off. Dark eyes slid to the left just like they had done all those weeks ago when she had spotted Brittany for the first time in four years walking through the police station next to Noah. Much like that day, Santana's heart was racing. Her pulse quickened. A wash of emotions flooded her system, but she somehow remained cool on the outside. She had been a mess that day. She had spent four long years trying to get over Brittany and when she saw the blonde for the first time, Santana almost forgot everything. She had wanted to fall all over again. Her feet had taken her through the department before she could even react to the sight of Brittany again. And when she had opened her mouth to say "Nice to see you too, Brittany", Santana had no control over her words.

"Brittany?" Santana pushed back just enough for separation from the women in her arms.

Britt's insides were tangling in knots, but her tongue quickly compensated for her. This was Santana's life. Two nights ago had meant nothing. That was what Santana had been trying to say since she had returned from New York, but like all things with Santana, she had a hard time actually speaking about her own feelings. All those times she had said people changed and they couldn't go back to the way they were, translated to – Santana had moved on.

"I called." Britt spit out the words with more emotions than she wanted.

Britt felt parts of herself shutting down and collapsing. Her insides were concaving and swallowed. Their eyes met over the other woman's shoulder.

"Pierce!" A voice was shouting, but she was too numb to respond. Brittany could only see – could only feel Santana from across the room.

"Brittany." Santana mouthed her name, but she couldn't react. Everything was spinning.

But she could feel it. Everything inside was closing up.

Macklin pushed passed her in the doorway and held out a hand to the other woman. She was only slightly taller than Santana and perhaps only a few years older. Her hair hung in straight strands around her face and her almond eyes flashed in the lights of the interrogation room. The woman had a definitely eagle-like quality as her eyes strafed from one face to the next. She hadn't seen Brittany, but her eyes darted from the blonde PI to the chief in a split second and then back to the door.

Britt didn't turn around to know Puck was standing behind her. He too pushed through her. She stepped back.

"Andrew Macklin." He held his hand out for the woman to take. "I take it you're partially the reason I have a killer headache this morning and a hundred phone calls to sort through."

The woman smirked and took his hand. "Guilty as charged."

"So you must be Nicole Terrence?"

"Oh no." She pulled her hand back with a smirk. "Only my mother calls me that and she's dead. So if you call me Nicole or Nicki or anything like that, we'll have a real problem. Terry is good. In fact, you better get used to calling me something because you have a lot to answer for."

"Now before we get to that-" Macklin tried to interject, but Terry was having none of it.

"Where is Tilt?"

"Tilt?"

"Yes, Harry Tilt, the dolt I allowed to convince me to send Lo out here. I can't believe he's running this shit show that's been holding her on bullshit charges. That Tilt. One of your district attorneys."

"DA Tilt has been informed and is on his way."

"But he's not here yet?"

"No."

"Good. Before he gets here, it will give me some time to skin your detective alive and leave his body strung up and bleeding outside for Harry to see as a warning before he walks in."

"Terry…" Santana tried to warn, but the woman had already turned to Noah.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Terry turned completely on the unsuspecting Puckerman.

"Hey! Whoa!" He raised his hands in defense, but she was faster. He could barely pull back in time. The table quickly became his only ally as he placed it between himself and the California lawyer. "It wasn't me!"

"Aren't you the detective who incarcerated my employee?"

"No!" Puck yelled, although he wasn't sure it would be enough to convince her of his innocence. Jesus! The amount of women in his life was already at a staggering and alarming number. And they were fucking fierce as hell. He didn't know what to do with yet another one.

"Terry, stop." Santana pulled at the woman's suit jacket and turned her back. Brittany's eyes lingered on the tightening grip of Santana's fingers in the material. Her eyes ran down the way Santana both soothed her boss and how intimate their conversation became. "Noah is a detective, but not the one who did this. He's my friend from high school."

Terry paused. Her eyes flicked with intense precision over Puckerman and then instantly back to Santana. "I thought this whole thing was about your ex from high school and I thought he was a she."

A she? Fuck. Terry thought this was all connected somehow to her. The tight feeling in Brittany's stomach multiplied. Terry knew about her. Not only knew about her, but _knew_ about her and Santana. Yet…Brittany knew nothing of her and apparently nothing about Santana's life since she left New York. This wasn't okay. She wasn't okay. She knew she didn't have any claim to Santana. But after the other night…

Britt didn't know what she expected, but it wasn't this.

Whatever the fuck this was, she wanted no part.

Santana was free and Greene was about to get his ass kicked. It was good enough. Fuck it. She turned around before Santana could clarify which ex or who had called Terry to clean this mess up. Brittany turned around and walked out the door. Fuck this. Fuck her life. One fucking thing after another. Nothing ever went right. Nothing ever stayed right.

Nothing.

That's all she had. Obviously Santana had something – had someone. What could Brittany offer? She pushed the yellow beanie from her head and shoved it deeper into the jacket's pockets. Her long legs carried her quickly through the department.

* * *

She didn't expect a grand moment to stop her or someone to come barreling after her – life wasn't like the movies. Santana wouldn't come after her and Brittany didn't want that. Two nights ago, the PI had known exactly what and who she wanted, but now everything had been tossed around. All she wanted at the moment was to fade into the carpet and disappear out the smoking exit. Maybe she'd walk a few blocks before taking a taxi home.

But something did stop her.

The look in his eyes revealed no distress, no anger, no resentment, only purpose. He strode through the department. The utter weight of triumph rested like a crown on his brow. Revulsion spread through Brittany at the sight of him, but he had yet to see her. Britt hesitated for a second to decide if she wanted to engage him. But after watching Santana interact with another woman, Brittany wasn't sure she could handle anymore drama. She needed to get out.

Fate wouldn't allow it.

"Pierce." Greene sneered as he caught sight of the PI trying to duck out of the office. His green eyes turned completely in her direction. His feet slowed from their destination to purposefully redirect him back to the blonde.

"Not now." Brittany bit and tried to keep walking. She didn't have time for his shit. "You're going to get your ass handed to you in pieces in there."

"Not sure what you're talking about." He called back to her. "The only one who should be worried is that little bitch you used to screw around with. I still find it kind of odd that we picked her up at your place when she's obviously banging that hot piece of ass from California."

Brittany's eyes flashed, but she remained silent.

"Does it hurt more now than it did all those years ago?" Greene continued to egg her on. "I couldn't have planned this any better. I didn't even know she was seeing anyone. But this is just delicious. I'm a little upset I didn't get to see your face for myself."

"Fuck you." Brittany whispered. She turned to leave.

"Where you going, Pierce?" Greene called after her again, but kept his voice low so she'd be the only one to hear him. "I hope you're not leaving yet because I don't care who that little cunt brought in to defend her. I'm still going to grill her in there. She'll be sitting in that interrogation room wondering if she still doesn't like the feel of dick cause that's how hard I'm about to fuck her over."

"You got nothing on her. You talk a big game, but I've been there, and it's not that impressive." Brittany spit. "She'll crush you."

"Like she did yesterday? Your girl's got a lot more to hide. Too bad you won't be around to save her a second time." Greene dismissed her with the wave of the files in his hands. "Have fun with whatever cheap liquor you're going to find this early in the morning."

He walked away and left Brittany standing there. Her eyes shifted to the exit only a few feet away and then back to Greene walking toward Santana and Terry in the interrogation room. Hesitation gripped her feet.

Greene had nothing. He was bluffing just to get a reaction from her. He was bluffing. What could he possibly have on Santana to link her to the Strangler murders? That had been dirty cop tactics yesterday and nothing more. Santana hadn't been ready for the onslaught of Rachel's body. No decent human being would be. But what did he mean about hiding?

Hiding.

Santana hadn't once mentioned Terry, not like that.

Hiding.

Santana was good at hiding, but what else could she be hiding that would be relevant to this case? They shared everything before Rachel's death. There was nothing.

Hiding.

Santana didn't need her help. Santana had Terry. Santana had all her lawyer shit. Santana had Puck. Santana didn't need her.

Brittany's turned back to the EXIT sign.

Santana would be fine without her.

* * *

"Andy."

"Ms. Lopez." Macklin was already indicating that Santana and Terry should take their seats at the interrogation table. Her shackles had been removed, but Santana didn't feel like she had been freed. In fact, this felt an awful lot like it had yesterday, but this time no Brittany behind the one-sided mirror and Macklin was here instead of Greene. "Take a seat."

"What are you doing?"

"I know what this looks like and I want to make it clear that I, in no ways, condone the way Detective Greene handled the department yesterday in my absence. He will be reprimanded."

"I hope more than sternly talked to." Terry cut in. She had yet to meet the man that had imprisoned Santana, but she couldn't wait.

"How he is reprimanded will be taken care of within the department and dependent on our talk this morning."

"Andy…" Santana started again, but a knock on the door stopped her. Her heart skipped for a moment as she remembered the last time she had been in this room and heard a knock at the door. Then, it had been a yellow beanie waiting on the other side. Her almond eyes glanced to the right to Terry. But it wasn't Brittany.

"Detective Greene, please come in. We weren't going to start without you."

"Andy." Santana leaned across the table. "What kind of sick game are you playing? Do you know what he did to me yesterday?"

"I do. I watched the video and talked to the detective this morning about his actions. He didn't realize how sensitive you were to the case and I believe he is apologetic for his rather harsh tactics." Santana glanced up to Greene's face. His expression was the furthest thing from remorseful. "He is very sorry."

"Somehow I doubt it." Santana dryly replied. Her eyes lingered on Greene's face. She didn't like how pleased he was with himself. There was something there beside his apparent triumph with Macklin this morning. Whatever Greene had done, Santana knew it wasn't good and it probably involved Brittany. No matter what happened now, he couldn't place anything on the PI. Santana had bit that bullet so even if Macklin wasn't on his knees and groveling for forgiveness, Greene couldn't bring Brittany in on any charges. Santana could take the hit this time.

"I am." Greene reiterated the apology although it was incredibly insincere.

"So you're the guy I'm going to see in court very soon." Terry stood up and offered a hand. "Call me Terry and I'm the person you'll be answering to when this whole thing is done."

"A pleasure." Greene took the hand and brushed off her threats. He sat down next to Macklin. "Let's get this thing underway, shall we?"

"What more could you want?" Santana rolled her eyes and sat back.

"Answers, Miss Lopez." Greene interjected.

But Macklin continued. "It's come to my attention that Detective Greene does have some legitimate reasons to question your involvement in the case. We may disagree on the degree, manner, and purpose of this investigation, but Detective Greene and I both feel there is a reason to hold you for a few more questions."

"I want to get back to my hotel and take the longest shower ever." Santana growled. "So let's get done with the detective's questions."

"You indicated that you were returning to New York for the first time since the original killer ran amuck in New York."

"Yes. I left after the case got cold and because of personal reasons." Santana resisted the compulsive need to look to the mirror. Brittany wasn't here today. Not that Santana could blame her.

She fucked up.

She fucked up so bad with Brittany. But she couldn't afford to think about that now.

"See I did a little more research on you, Miss Lopez…" Greene opened his file on the table and pulled out a newspaper. He flipped out a local paper and pulled out the section which focused solely on the arts and stage in New York.

Santana's face was front and center in the picture.

"You were in town a week before Anna Robinson's death, the first girl killed during this cycle of murders."

Santana leaned forward and took the newspaper from the table. Macklin was frowning and Terry's eyes were honed onto Greene.

"They took a picture of me?" Santana placed the newspaper back down. "I was in town for the opening of a show."

"And I'm the one who took her to the show." Terry prompted. "It was a gift. I knew that she had a friend who still performed in New York, so I bought tickets and surprised Lo with a last minute flight to New York for the premiere."

"And it just so happened to be the week before the first murder happens? The murders stopped last time and you left New York. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

"Andrew, you've got to be kidding me." Santana was speaking directly to Greene's superior.

"Just questions, Santana. Just answer them so we can clear you completely. I said this would be thorough."

"You know. Agnes came into our little chat yesterday and I've been discussing the profile with the FBI and they gave me a few more theories and alternate profiles for the killer since we don't seem to be getting anywhere with our current one." Greene spread out more things from his folder. This time there weren't pictures of Rachel's body, but objects Santana had thought about a lot since they had reopened the Strangler case. In separate, clear baggies, Greene displayed the postcard sent to her house in California, the note on the back of the hotel receipt for the room welcoming her back to New York, and finally the handwritten note taken from the hotel receptionist telling Santana to meet with an informant at the location of the next body.

"You wouldn't fit the original killer's profile, but the strange lapse in time and the notes make you to be a very good candidate for a copycat or even an apprentice with a different MO since you've very clearly made yourself to be a victim this time. It all started after a trip to New York. Perhaps something triggered you when you returned." Greene pointed to the picture of her leaving the venue after Kurt's performance.

"Nothing adds up when it comes to you and your involvement in this case, Ms. Lopez." Greene pushed around the notes and the postcard. "You have nothing waiting for you here. Not even your old partner. You've had no contact or suspicious characters in your life across the country, but all of a sudden you are the focal point of a major serial killer case." He flipped down a few more newspaper clippings from the local newspapers and a few articles that were printed from various news sites online. All of them contained her picture or a mention of her. "You're all over New York and all you've done is show up at the department a few times, go to a few crime scenes, and send a few malicious notes to yourself and suddenly everyone knows about you. Hell, you even had one of your big time Hollywood movie clients show up."

"Sending to myself? Macklin? Are you listening to this shit?" Santana turned to the chief.

"Look, Santana, something doesn't add up. I agree with Detective Greene on that. Something isn't right in the case and it seems to involve you. Everything else adds up from the MO to the victims and the patterns and timeline the previous Strangler used to kill his victims, except for you. Not once did any of the women receive anything from the killer. So there has to be something you're not telling us." Macklin pulled back the evidence on the table. "Unlike Greene, I don't feel as if you are a killer or a copycat or an apprentice, but if there's something you're not tell me, it's not going to end well for you – lawyer from California to help you—or not. Is that clear?"

Macklin fully disapproved of Greene's tactics the previous day and he loathed keeping Santana in the precinct any longer, especially for a bogus interrogation. But Macklin couldn't argue with Greene. There were discrepancies. And they were big. No matter if Santana was directly involved in the case or not, if Macklin didn't do his job and conduct a thorough investigation, Greene wouldn't be the only person facing IA.

Santana's eyes glanced to the newspaper clippings, the articles, the cards, the notes, and then to Terry. Her boss's expression was clear – not pleased. But she wasn't concerned. Santana had known Terry for awhile now and if she had a problem, she would be the first to voice it. Terry trusted her.

Dark eyes slid to the one-way mirror.

Brittany.

She'd fucked up.

What would Brittany do? Brittany would have already cut Greene's balls off and shoved them down his throat. She would have trusted her.

Would Brittany trust her anymore?

Santana sighed.

"Andrew, I'm not hiding anything. I forgot about my trip to New York because it was a one day thing. I'm not hiding anything and I swear to God, I have no idea why the Strangler keeps sending me these notes. I wish I knew so I could figure out a way to make them stop."

"I believe you, Santana." Macklin cut Greene off before he could speak. "But you know I can't let you leave New York until the killer is found. I am sorry about the way you were treated yesterday and that I wasn't here to fix the problem right away. And depending on how the case proceeds, Detective Greene will answer to IA."

"You mean you're going to hold off Internal Affairs until after the killer is caught because you think I might still be involved?" Santana shook her head. "This has got to be some fucking joke."

Macklin frowned but he didn't deny her statement. His silence made Santana all the angrier.

"That doesn't sit well with me, chief." Terry pulled out a pad of paper and clicked her pen. Where is Tilt?"

"I'll send him in."

"Good."

Macklin rose from the table and helped Greene gather the pile of evidence. Santana's eyes lifted to the one-sided mirror, but she could only see herself staring back. Somewhere in New York, Brittany hated her. And Santana couldn't blame her.

"Santana?"

She snapped back to Terry.

"What's up?"

"I said you go head back to your hotel. I've got a few things I want to run by Tilt about how much money the city is going to owe you after this abuse of power. You can take a shower and we'll catch up. Okay?"

"Yeah." Santana nodded. Terry leaned over and placed a small kiss on Santana's lips. The brunette allowed herself to smile despite the conflicting feelings tearing apart her insides. "Thanks for being here, Terry. I'll see you later."

* * *

Santana exited the interrogation room. People didn't bother to subtly glance in her direction. They blatantly gazed at her with open judgments and suspicions. She had spent the night in holding and had been dragged into the interrogation room in handcuffs. They were right to stare. She would be staring too. Santana kept her head held high.

Yellow.

A yellow beanie flashed at the end of the office and exited out the smoking exit.

Brittany? She stayed for the interrogation? Santana thought her partner had booked it, but it seemed she had been mistaken if Brittany had stayed the entire time behind the one-sided mirror.

Santana ignored the office completely now. She only had one goal – one person she had to answer to.

She opened the door. The sun was shining and it seemed warmer for the tail end of winter. Funny how it seemed much colder now than it had last night when she had been left alone in the holding cell. It had been cold, but not as alone as she thought she would feel. Santana distinctly remembering feeling comforted when she closed her eyes before finally falling to sleep. Even behind bars and under the gaze of security camera, Britt's presence had been there. Santana had been sure of that when she had fallen asleep.

Now, she felt cold. Brutally and bitterly cold. This is what it felt like to be alone.

Brittany stood a good distance away from the building. Santana recognized her jacket on the blonde before she even glanced up at the yellow beanie to confirm it was her ex-lover. A small cloud of gray smoke lingered in the air around her, but Santana could see darker clouds surrounding the PI.

Here, Santana stood too afraid to move forward and too concerned that if she didn't approach Britt, that it would be the end of whatever friendship they had rekindled.

Friendship.

It sounded like an icy word compared to the night they had shared.

Fuck.

Santana's stomach twisted into a thousand knots as she stepped forward. Without seeing Brittany's face, Santana saw the muscles in the other's back tense, but she didn't run away. Santana didn't know if it was a good sign. Brittany leaned over the wiring of the fence and when she didn't turn around, Santana took it as an invitation to stand next to her. Unable to face those blue eyes, Santana placed her forearms on top of the fence. Her dark eyes gazed out down the backside of the precinct where uniformed police were walking back and forth. Their problems shouldered on the uniforms they wore and the badges on their chests. They didn't wear the blue, but Santana felt like the weight of the world balanced between their shoulders. Santana sighed, but was grateful Brittany didn't choose to attack her.

"Hey."

"Hey." The blonde tapped her smoke on the fence and remained perfectly still.

The ally silence had been one word ago swiftly turned to an enemy. Santana swallowed hard trying to find the words.

"Britt…I-" Santana started, but the words she was desperately trying to find wouldn't come. Or better, they weren't coming the way she wanted them. "That wasn't fair. I-wasn't fair to you."

"You look better out of chains." The uncaring shrug was more than Santana could bear.

"Look, Brittany, I didn't tell you because-"

-she didn't want to. She hadn't wanted to merge her current life with her former life because her current life existed solely because she had given up everything in New York. The only way to keep functioning in California was to deny everything that had come before that life. Merging her two worlds would have meant destroying both of them.

Not that ignoring everything had made anything better.

"No, you tried to tell me. All that shit about moving on. I should have known it was your way of saying what you couldn't." Brittany breathed out another line of smoke. Her eyes were dull and distant. Chagrined that Brittany still knew her so well, a small amount of red tinged Santana's cheeks. "At least you're out of holding and we can get back to what matters." She paused for a second as if what mattered wasn't necessarily clear to either of them. "The case."

Not that she wanted to talk about what had just happened, but Santana wanted to clean the air between them and Britt wasn't making it easy.

"You didn't have to do that." Santana sighed.

"You would have done the same. Don't mention it." Brittany tapped her cigarette on the fence.

Frustrated, Santana wanted Brittany to look at her. She needed to see those eyes. The brunette reached between them and violently flicked the cigarette from between her fingers. "Those things are bad for you."

Despite Santana's attempt to taunt Brittany into looking at her, Brittany didn't turn to face her. She stretched her long fingers in the absence of the cigarette and answered calmly. "I do a lot of things that are bad for me."

Fuck. Santana almost groaned aloud.

"B…I didn't mean for you to see us, not like that."

Brittany paused, but jealousy and rejection made her ask. "She's obviously not just your boss."

"No. She's been there for me for awhile now."

"Hmm." Brittany reached into her pockets and pulled out her pack of cigarettes.

This wasn't about Terry. Well, not directly and Santana knew it. This was about them. When wasn't it about them? Santana sighed as she turned back to the parking lot.

"The other night…between us…it…" Santana didn't know how to make it better because nothing she said would make it better.

Was a mistake?

How many of those had she made? How many people got hurt because of those mistakes?

* * *

_The office was bustling. _

_Not because of a case or some new client or even a Hollywood celebrity. No, Matthews and Matthews was changing – changing forever. The boss and senior partner of the firm had long since announced he would be retiring and since his son opted to become some artist in New York, he no longer had a family member to continue the legacy of the firm. It had been passed through the family for four generations of lawyers. But he saw his time ending and no real blood heir to take over the business. _

_He wasn't concerned. In fact, he was elated to finally be able to take all those trips he always wanted to make. And the firm would be fine. In fact, it wouldn't be Matthews and Matthews for much longer._

_The celebration had started early with flasks brought in purses and snuck into clutches. Before noon, a keg had been rolled into the main office area. Music, dancing, and toasts were being passed around. It wasn't often M&M had a party like this, but in his older age, Mr. Matthews enjoyed seeing his employees pleased to work for him._

_Santana knew that such rewards were earned. She had learned long ago that nothing was free. _

_There was always a price to pay._

_It was just a matter of how much one was willing to pay. Santana had paid and every night she wondered if it was worth it. She had the job. She had the escape she needed from New York, but not the way she had envisioned it. All she had was her job here._

"_Come on, Lopez, have a beer." One of the guys rolled his chair over to her desk. He reeked of alcohol. "Or maybe a wine cooler, that is, if the beer is too strong for you."_

"_Not now. I've got to finish these reports and get them onto Terry's desk by the end of the day."_

"_Are you kidding?" He shook his head in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding, right!?"_

"_No, I'm not."_

"_Gosh, Lopez, you've got to be the most straight-laced person I've ever met under the age of seventy-five." He scoffed and kicked off the edge of her desk so he could roll away. "You know this is Terry's party. I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be working when the boss says it's time to party." _

"_Whatever." Santana muttered under her breath. She had work to do. Just because the rest of them could party, didn't mean Santana had to take a day off. She had casework and clients to research. Not only that, but Terry wanted a personal meeting with her on Monday. Santana was determined to have all her work done by then so she could impress the new boss. Santana had yet to have the opportunity to work with Terry, but everyone talked about the boss's passion and drive. That was something Santana would love to work with, but it required full dedication to get to that level. She wasn't going to let a company party deter her ambition. _

_What did he know anyway?_

_Straight-laced? Clearly he didn't know her very well. Santana was the furthest thing from straight. _

_Not that any of her co-workers would know that. She mostly kept to herself and focused on the job. What was the point of getting to know anyone? She didn't want to have anyone know her. Just do the job and make the boss happy. Focus. Focus. It was easier to keep her mind on the task at hand. _

_Besides, getting to know someone meant having to talk about herself and Santana loathed the idea of sharing her past. _

_Focus. _

"_Come on, Lopez, boss says she's moving the party out of the office and to the bar down the street. All drinks are on the big man and his new partner." Another woman called to her. _

_Santana sighed and looked back at her desk. But before she could pick up her pen to continue proofing the contract in front of her, a hand grasped the back of her chair and spun her around. Amber eyes Santana had only seen from a distance or at a meeting were staring straight into hers. They were intense and not at all glazed over from alcohol consumption like the rest of Santana's co-workers._

_Nicole Terrence. _

"_I don't know if you heard, but boss's orders- everyone is to go to the bar immediately for drinks and revelry."_

"_I-"_

"_So get going or I'll have to tell the boss that you're being insubordinate." The woman winked and took off to join the rest of Santana's co-workers. The brunette sat in her chair. Tell the boss on her? Terry was the new boss. Great. Now she had no excuse not to join in the celebration. _

_A beer had been resting in her hands for the better part of two hours at the bar down the street from the firm. Her co-worker hadn't exaggerated when he had claimed it had been bought out for Terry and Mr. Matthews' celebration party. Santana just wasn't in the mood to celebrate. What was the point? She had proofs and clients to research and paperwork to have on important people's desks by the end of the weekend. At least she didn't have anything exciting going on for her. She could probably spend all weekend finishing the work she had wanted to get done today._

"_Lopez, this is a bar for Christ's sake. Take a fucking shot with me. You can't be that bad of a lightweight. Besides I've never seen you out." The guy from before was back and sitting at her table with a few of the other interns that had been accepted into the firm at the same time she had. _

"_I'm not a lightweight." Santana responded with confidence. Her dark eyes glanced to the shots in his hand and then back to the rather warm beer in her own hand. _

"_Prove it."_

_Santana glared at the gall of the man to openly insist that she couldn't handle alcohol. "Fuck it. Hand it over."_

"_Oh shit, Lopez, you've got a dirty mouth after all!" He barked a laugh and nudged his elbow at another intern. "Told ya Lopez wasn't a pussy."_

"_Trust me. There's lots you don't know about me." Santana grabbed the shot glass and threw it back without ceremony. She flipped it upside down without even flinching, but smirked at him. "Give me another."_

_What did it matter if she had a few drinks? It wasn't like she could leave her boss' big party without making it offensive. _

_Drinks and hours later, Santana was surrounding by co-workers and interns she had never bothered to learn the names of. Not that she wanted to learn their names now, but somehow alcohol always had a way of making everyone, even strangers, temporary friends. They were all laughing and exchanging office stories. At one point, someone had pulled out the karaoke equipment and groups were wailing into the microphone at the stage. Santana had stopped with the shots, but she was steadily finishing her fourth beer. Her dark eyes were glazed from the alcohol and she was feeling out of it. The bar swayed or she was swaying or the table was swaying – she wasn't sure which one was the culprit, but she decided to sway with it. Her body rocked back and forth in a trance, but her mind was elsewhere. _

_To be specific, it was on the east coast. It wasn't like Santana didn't think about her. But when Brittany came to mind, Santana was much better at shutting herself down. At this moment, drinking for the first time in forever, Santana couldn't control her heart like she usually did when it came to Brittany. She had avoided alcohol since she moved out to California because forgetting a woman like Brittany took every ounce of her will power to achieve functionality. _

"_Next singer!" A voice announced from the microphone at the front of the room. Santana squinted her eyes over the rim of her glass. Never again. Along with no alcohol, Santana had avoided singing. She had never been good at rejection – ever. So when Brittany rejected her that last night in New York by refusing to show up to the Lounge for open mic, Santana had steeled herself away from singing. It wasn't worth it._

"_Lopez! Get up there and sing!" Someone shouted down their table._

_Santana brushed off the remark. "Nah, I'm good."_

"_Come on! You made yourself to be such a badass with the shots, let's see you show up this prick at the mic too." One of the female interns said over the shouting. "You can sing anything you want."_

"_I'm good." _

"_Come on, Santana." Another woman's voice reiterated and Santana popped her head up because she could have sworn the voice was familiar. _

_But it wasn't Brittany._

_The next time she glanced down, she was standing in front of the bar with the lights on her. Not that anyone was looking at her. They were too busy talking amidst themselves, ordering more drinks, trying to impress the new boss, or shooting at the pool table. _

_Normally, she would have started with a dedication, but-_

_Blonde hair in the corner of the bar caught her eyes, but once again, Santana was mistaken. She plugged her Ipod into the jack and set up the machine to play the music without the vocals. _

_-Santana knew exactly who she was dedicating this song to. _

_Her mouth opened on the mic and her eyes closed. _

_**I'm the last one to understand **_

_Her voice cracked and she struggled with the first few words trying to once again find her voice._

_**You won't find footing for sure. **_

_Her eyes still closed, she imagined blonde hair in the first row. Brittany was fine in New York. Puck was there and she'd be happy. _

_**There's not really even a soft place left to land**_

_And Santana was fine here.__**  
Heavy chop falls against the grain**_

_**This thing echoes for miles  
All frayed inside of it, to the middle ring**_

_Frayed stuck in her throat as she imagined how damaged she must seem to Brittany right now. How pathetic her song choice was painfully clear. Just how fucked up was she? _

_Her eyes opened for the refrain, but Brittany wasn't in the front row. She wasn't here. Could she even hear her?_

_She should have never had that first shot._

_**And I want to feel something way out here**_

_Her mouth opened up and for the first time since she had taken the mic, her lungs expanded and she projected. It was the first time she had really used her voice since the Lounge and it ripped through her lungs and cracked her wind pipes. Her lips pressed against the cold mesh of the mic as her dark eyes met the lights of the bar. _

_**I need something to happen now, even if it fucks me up**_**  
**

_She closed her eyes again now that she knew Brittany was definitely not in the crowd. _

_**Come visit me! Way out here.  
I need you to see me, even if it makes it worse**__  
_

_How long had she been out here and this was the first time she admitted to needing Brittany. God, she needed her so bad. _

_**So send a note to me that says a nice thing  
But can't unfray the mess**_

_She was so careful to appear well-adjusted at all times. She only wore the nicest skirts and tailored suit jackets. Her hair was always trimmed and her nails professionally done. But she knew it was all a façade.__**  
A million tiny splinters, the ax still ringing**_

**Glue them all together to build a new thing  
**_**A mostly nice place to be**_

_The new condo. _

_The car. _

_The job. _

_The beautiful view._

_It all felt so hollow. All of it. But her parents said she should be proud. She had money to her name and a decorator just redid her kitchen.__**  
A noble triumph, come see, an absolute feat  
**__Was she admitting defeat by singing this song? She wouldn't last much longer out here._

_**And I want to feel something way out here**_

_Feeling hurt so much. __**  
I need something to happen now, even if it fucks me up**_

_She was already so fucked up.__**  
Come visit me way out here**_

_Why hadn't Brittany come after her? __**  
I need you to see me, even if it makes it worse  
**_

_She belted out the refrain once more. Her dark eyes scanned the room. Everyone was blonde and then they weren't. Everyone was watching her and then they turned. Everything was spinning, but she kept singing. _

_**And I want to feel something way out here  
I need something to happen now, even if it fucks me up  
Come visit me way out here  
I need you to see me, even if it makes it worse  
And I want to feel something way out here  
I need something to happen now, even if it fucks me up  
Come visit me way out here  
I need you to see me, even if it makes it worse**_

_How much worse could it get? Brittany wasn't coming. She was alone. _

"_Lopez! Nice!" The male intern feeding her shots earlier in the night took the mic from her. "That was good, but could I convince you to sing with the rest of the girls from accounting? They're singing Call Me Maybe…"_

"_Nah." Santana's eyes were still on the crowd, as if Brittany would have heard her plea and materialized. "I think I'll sit that one out. I need another beer."_

"_Sure." He had already turned around and completely forgot about her. He was directing a staggering group of women onto the stage and deciding which one to give the microphone to, but all of them appeared pretty slouched. _

_Santana found a corner of the bar and flicked her finger up for another drink. The room had already been spinning, but she felt as if another full glass of beer would help to anchor her. But it didn't come. She tilted her head back against the wall of the bar and closed her eyes. That had been stupid. And even though it felt so good to finally sing again, the implications of the song and her feelings were almost unbearable. _

"_Can I offer you a drink?"_

"_Hmm?" Santana opened her eyes and experienced déjà vu. Amber eyes were staring at her intently. Shit. Her boss again. Santana groaned. Obviously someone in this mess of drunks and co-workers had been paying attention to her. Fuck. _

"_Don't worry. I've got just the thing for you." Terry slid over a glass of ice water. Santana's dark eyes and lower inhibitions glared at the glass with suspicions. But her boss smiled. "Can I join you?"_

_Even drunk, Santana knew what constituted as a bad idea. And refusing your boss a place to sit at her party was definitely a bad idea. "Knock yourself out." Santana replied before she had time to also screen her choice of words. Definitely not the words she would have chosen to spit out at her boss had she been sober. But luckily Terry didn't seem to care. She smiled and took the seat next to Santana. _

_Santana's eyes roved over the cold water glass and she licked her lips hungrily. In the back of her mind, she knew that her behavior was most definitely unbecoming of an intern, especially in front of her new boss. The water was a better option than talking so she kept the glass to her lips. Thankfully, Terry didn't say anything. Her eyes were on the terrible rendition of "It's Raining Men" and the beginning of what looked to be a strip show of a few of the guys in the corner of the bar. _

_After a few minutes, Santana relaxed. Maybe her boss had really just been looking for a place to sit. _

"_Your performance up there…" Terry started and turned to meet Santana's eyes. "You have a lot of passion."_

"_I think you mean rage." The brunette quickly and instinctively responded. Most people in high school always commented on how aggressive she seemed at the mic. It made sense that someone seeing her perform for the first time would think of her as angry or forceful. _

_Brittany never did. _

_Whatever Santana thought, clearly Terry disregarded Santana's ultimately false projections of herself. "No, I mean passion. You have a beautiful voice."_

_Santana scoffed and snorted into the water with a customary roll of her eyes. She couldn't believe she had allowed herself to lose control. She couldn't believe she had taken the mic after swearing she'd given up on singing. What could Terry know about how she sounded? Did her boss know that Santana felt as if she had ripped her heart out to sing that song? And not one person in this bar saw her singing to a woman who lived thousands of miles away – a woman who wouldn't be able to fix Santana tonight or tomorrow or ever again. _

_Terry remained silent for a few seconds. She could see Santana was wrestling with inner thoughts and different dialogues. "I think you have a lot of passion, Santana, and I want to see more of it. I am taking over this firm and I want someone I can rely. Someone who has the same fire I do."_

_Santana didn't really process what her boss was saying, but she did hear the last part. "Oh, I've got fire."_

"_I see that." Terry said with a smile she knew Santana couldn't see. _

* * *

_It wasn't long before Terry was driving Santana to the condo she had just bought. The brunette pointed the way. She was softly singing to whatever song was on the radio and talking about a few places Terry had never heard of. Santana worked the key to her place into the lock and pushed the door open._

"_Come on, let's get you to bed."_

"_You shouldn't be taking care of me." Santana muttered and stumbled toward her bedroom. "You're my boss and I'm okay. I swear I'm fine."_

"_I know. Just let me be a good boss and make sure you'll still be alive on Monday for our meeting."_

_Santana groaned and flopped onto the bed face first. "I forgot about that. Fuck." The word slipped out of her mouth with ease even as Santana realized what she had just said. "Fuck, I shouldn't say fuck around you."_

_Terry laughed quietly with an amused smile. "I promise, I'll forget about today for our meeting on Monday if you want." Terry said with a soft smile. She stood a good distance away at the door. Santana had really been in no shape to make it home without an escort. "Thanks for the entertainment tonight."_

_Shamed and feeling stupid for acting like a lightweight freshman college kid in front of her new boss, Santana quietly confessed. "I'm sorry I sang."_

"_I'm not." Terry disclosed. She didn't have the heart to tell Santana that until Santana placed her lips on that mic, Terry was going to fire her in that meeting on Monday. Everything changed when she heard that voice and the absolute depth that had been hiding in the young woman. "You obviously love him very much."_

"_She was my everything." Santana softly admitted and didn't catch Terry's misplaced pronoun._

_But her boss most certainly caught the switch. "She?"_

"_Yeah…" Santana mumbled into the pillow. _

"_I knew you were my kind of girl." Terry shook her head with smirk. "Get some sleep, Ms. Lopez, I'm going to work you so hard on Monday, all those coals you've got growing cold in that stomach of yours are going to burn so bright. I have no doubt that your girl will see you from wherever she is."_

"_What?"_

"_You're too fiery to keep on ice forever." Terry finished her thought, but Santana was already sleeping in the deep comforts of alcohol. _

* * *

She owed Terry a lot.

But Brittany?

It felt like she owed her ex nothing, because Brittany already owned everything. Santana didn't know what was going to happen or what anything meant. She just knew no matter what happened now, whatever they had shared had been so real.

"_The other night…between us…it…"_

"It wasn't a mistake." She completed with utter and absolute authority. Her chest hammered and her eyes finally left the parking lot to those blue orbs that not even the Californian sun could erase from her memories.

Brittany dropped the unlit cigarette from her hand. Her heart was beating wildly. She hadn't expected that answer. She didn't know what she expected. She had been burned so many times and she had made her heart so hard after Santana had left, she thought this last dagger had been the final wound. Whatever she willed for her heart to stop feeling, Brittany's heart ached harder at the smallest word inserted in Santana's words: _wasn't_ a mistake. "Then what was it?"

"It was us, Britt." Santana met those eyes, seeking an answer.

"And that's it?"

"That's all we can be." Santana didn't smile because she wasn't happy. This wasn't what she wanted. She didn't know what she wanted. But this feeling where everything in her felt like it was falling apart, she didn't want that.

"That's a bullshit answer." Brittany turned around and leaned back on the fence.

"I know." Santana's voice lowered. "And I can't give you what you want. Not right now."

The lawyer took a step back. Fingers around her wrist held her still. Those bright blue eyes were staring directly into hers. It was just like the moments they shared separated by the one-sided glass when all Santana could see was her reflection, but she had known Brittany's eyes had been staring straight into her. A sharp intake of breath did little to release the tension between them. The blonde took the smallest step forward into her personal space, but it didn't feel like an invasion. In fact, Santana yielded her ground far too easily.

Brittany's voice eased into the cold air between them. "If you can't give me what I want, how about giving yourself what you want? Because we both know whatever's between us isn't a one night thing."

It was a forever thing.

"Brittany…please, don't do this." Santana pulled back, but Brittany still held her tight.

"You said that the other night too and you at least pretended to put up better resistance."

Santana's eyes darted from Brittany's hand to her lips. But her eyes no longer asked for release, but demanded it. "Fuck you, Britt. You weren't there. Like I said before, we made different lives. And we can't just drop them." With a sudden yank, Santana freed her hand from Brittany's grip.

The blonde didn't pull back. Emboldened by Santana's fiery retort, Brittany wouldn't be denied so easily. As Santana tried to walk away, Brittany's arms wrapped around her waist and pulled the shorter girl back into her body. The petite brunette's back arched and her knees bent as she deliberately allowed herself to submit to Brittany's hands. Santana turned. Their eyes were so close and their bodies only breaths apart. Santana's eyes glanced up under her long lashes. Brittany bent down.

Her lips so close.

But they passed and brushed against her ear. Her voice revealed staggering confidence, and at the same time, Santana could hear the sheer vulnerability underneath her ex-lover's bravado. Both broke her resolve as the blonde whispered. "You still smell like me."

And just like that, she was naked and laying in Brittany's arms.

Santana pushed her away. She couldn't do this. She couldn't be both Santanas at the same time. The door to the precinct opened with a slam as she made her exit. The lawyer didn't even bother to glance to the interrogation room where Terry would be grilling Tilt, but she pulled the zipper up on Brittany's jacket and practically flew out of the office. She needed time and space. She needed to clear her head. And being around Brittany was like drowning – her presence provided no relief just the aching reminder of what she lacked.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! I guess this is my announcement of forever shipping these two soulmates. I will NOT be putting down my writer's pen. BF!anon sent me an ask on tumblr if I would be continuing with **_**Sirens**_** and **_** IIAC**_**. I give you a resounding YES. I have a lot planned for this fic and for future fics. It will be a long time before I stop writing Brittana. Next up would be **_**IIAC**_** (things are really heating up for Brittana in that one ;)Thanks again and I hope you have a lovely week! :D**

**Song: Come Visit Me by The Rosebuds**


	24. Chapter 24

**I am trying to post diligently! I swear, but this will prob be my last chapter until the semester is over. Sorry. I know it sucks, but I need to get this Master's degree, I'm so close and I need to buckle down a little. Thanks for understanding and the unending support. :D**

**A warning on the chapter, I love breaking forms of narrative structure, but I know you are all intelligent enough to follow along. So I had fun with this chapter. Hopefully it's not too different.**

**Now onto…**

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 24**

"Maybe Greene's right." Brittany said quietly. Her voice betrayed how wrong those words sounded together. They stuck to the roof of her mouth and grated her tongue, but Brittany refused to take them back.

Even with the look Noah was shooting her.

"You're kidding right?" Puck stopped picking at a spot of old tape that had been stuck to the one-way mirror. It was the only place they could talk. Like really talk. Terry had left some time ago. Tilt had walked out of the department smarting a metaphorical bruised ass that had translated to a real limp in his stride. He appeared shaken from his meeting with his old "buddy" from law school. Apparently Terry didn't fuck around. The interrogation room was empty, not that anyone would have been able to see them in the observation room anyway. "I know you're mad at her about not telling you shit. Fuck, I'm mad too, but that doesn't mean Santana's the Strangler or involved in the case. That's fucked up, Britt."

He was disappointed and he didn't hide it as he faced his best friend.

But Brittany was looking through the one-way mirror. Her eyes darkened on the empty seat and the unshackled chains underneath the table.

"She's not killing anyone, Puck. But Greene's right. Something doesn't add up." Brittany nervously fiddled with the yellow beanie in her hand.

Puck risked a glance to her eye and the darkening bruise forming there, to her fingers and the stretched knitting of that raggedy, old beanie. How much longer was she going to pretend she was okay?

_Santana opened the door to her hotel room. She was grateful for the darkness. Her hands fumbled in the dark for the light switch, but she gave up after a moment of trying. Stumbling through the dark felt more natural._

"Don't-" His voice fell in defeat before he even finished his sentence. "-do that."

Brittany had lit another cigarette.

As low as the PI was at the moment, Puck was surprised she was still here. Still in the department. Still in the interrogation room as if she wasn't quite finished. Puck had expected her to be at the Grouse or the earliest opening liquor store already. But here she was…Smoking in the middle of a government building, but sober. Starkly sober. He ran a hand over his shaved head. He wasn't sure if it was good thing. Then again, he thought Terry showing up this morning was a good thing. Without fact checking, Puckerman was positive Brittany had been the one to summon the lawyer from California.

And from the look on her face, Brittany must have also thought bringing Terry in had been a good idea.

Little did they know…

A puff of smoke rose and clouded the mirror. Wordlessly, Britt passed the cigarette to Puck. He didn't take it, but looked at it for an awkwardly long time before refusing. "I can't. The chief would kill me."

"It's not technically yours so I'll be the one who gets in trouble." Brittany stated, then added with a half-hearted smile. "Like always."

"Fuck it." He took a drag and passed it back. And even though more than a day had passed since Santana had first been arrested and he found his best friend lying on the floor, it still felt like the same fucking day. This nightmare would never end. He glanced back to Brittany. Her expression revealed so much because she was trying so hard to express nothing. "Britt…when they found Santana at your apartment the other day…what were you guys doing?"

Puck regretted the question instantly.

With forced non-emotion, Brittany answered. "Reviewing case notes."

_Santana slumped against the shower tiles. Her head pressed into the cold surface. Slowly, she drew the curtain around the tub, but didn't turn on the shower head yet. She wanted nothing more than to wash away the jail cell – to wash away the humiliation – to wash away the guilt and confusion._

_But it meant washing her away._

"_You still smell like me." It echoed like a taunt or like a truth that couldn't be hidden, that Santana didn't want to hide, but it hurt. Fuck. It hurt a lot. Santana knew Brittany had meant it to hurt. Santana would have done the same thing. No, she would have done it much worse. Brittany had only twisted the knife, Santana would have plunged it in over and over again. But no matter how much it hurt her, Santana knew Brittany had only said it to mask her own pain. _

_She fucked up bad._

"What does it even matter what the fuck we were doing?" Brittany growled when she realized Puck wasn't going to say anything else. Why would he bring it up and then drop it? "Why?"

"Nothing, Pierce. I was just, you know, asking…" He tried to deflate her discomfort.

"You already knew the fucking answer so why ask it if you weren't going to go all the way with it?" Brittany continued. Her eyes were boring holes in the chair Santana had been sitting in. "If you knew the fucking answer why would you ask the question? If you knew what would happen why would you even start something you knew you weren't going to finish?"

Santana.

This was all about Santana.

As if Puck needed confirmation about what was actually happening between the two of them, Brittany's rant all but made it real. He would have responded, but Brittany wasn't really talking to him. He had been watching them circling around each other since Santana's return to New York and even if they had been too dense to see the sparks flying, the lightshow had been impossible to ignore for anyone else.

He knew it was a bad idea, but he couldn't stop himself. No one ever said it was easy to be a friend. "Britt…" The detective turned from the mirror so he could see her face fully. It was important. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" She was tempted to flick the cigarette to the ground, but instead she ground out the butt on the bottom of her boot and she flicked it into the trashcan to her left.

Puck's frown deepened. He expected the answer, but he disliked the way Brittany wouldn't even look him in the eyes. Dark thoughts invaded. "I know it's not good, Britt, but…" He knew he was treading in dangerous water and that his friend needed time and space. Tempted to look to see if she had her gun, Puck paused an unusual amount of time. Friendship was hard. Real friendship. "…don't go to the bar tonight or hit the bottle. Please."

Brittany swallowed hard. Her eyes dimmed even further. Sure she had expected it. But she hadn't expected him to say it out loud. It hurt that all Puck could think about were her bad habits. It was fucked up. Not that she could fault him.

But it didn't make her feel any better.

"I'm fine, Puck." Brittany tore her eyes away from the glass.

And Puck couldn't tell which was darker – the bruise on her face or the one in those blue orbs.

"Britt, I'm here for you."

"I don't need anything." She broke contact with him and made for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere." The door slammed with finality and left Puck standing there staring.

Macklin's words from all those weeks ago entered his head. Her shit was now his shit. Did Macklin mean this too? Because this was a matter Noah had learned long ago not to get tangled in.

_Santana's fingers fumbled over the wet shower dial. The water turned from scalding to temperate and finally stopped completely. She remained perfectly still. Her eyes closed. The water clung to the tip of her nose and dripped from the ends of her hair. _

"_Santana?" A familiar voice called through the police monitored hotel room. The brunette poked her head up. One deep breath. Another deep breath. Her dark eyes adjusted to the light of the bathroom and glanced up. She could do this. Grateful. That was the emotion expected. She was grateful. She was very grateful. Terry had come all the way from California and did so knowing that it would already be an awkward situation. Her boss had given up time with clients and placed her firm under the care of other people just for her. Without a doubt, Terr had torn apart one of her best friends from law school and all for Santana. _

_Grateful._

"_I'm in here."_

"**Thanks for being here."**

"What are you doing here?"

"**Yeah I had a feeling things were tense down at the precinct, although more than a text message would be nice."**

"**Sorry, Joce. It's been crazy." Puck ran a hand over his head and flinched instinctively. But neither Santana nor Brittany was there to bat his hand down with a reproving reprimand about going bald. Jocelyn was too busy moving about his apartment to notice the flinch. He was surprised she was here. "Besides learning stuff from me, has the media caught wind of Santana's arrest?"**

**The reporter froze and straightened. Her green eyes caught his for a moment and he quickly noticed the hesitation. **

"Just let me in, Allen." Brittany's voice revealed her agitation.

"Yeah, but you're like probably not allowed to be working this case since that hot thing in the skirt got arrested and I'm pretty sure you're on probation."

"I'm still a consultant and the charges have been dropped on Santana, the _lawyer_." Brittany emphasized since the last time they had come down to the evidence cages, Allen hadn't truly believed Santana was anything more than a call girl.

"I don't care if the charges have been dropped, you still haven't made good on our deal."

Repressing the urge to groan and then slam the little shit's face into the cage he stood behind, Brittany shrugged. "I know what I promised, Allen, and it's not going to happen. Not this time. I'll have to find some other way to repay you."

He licked his lips.

"Some way?"

"_Not_ that way." Brittany's eyes turned ice cold and her fingers played with the empty holster of her gun on her belt. Allen's eyes darted from Brittany's steel stare to her long digits fingering the place where her firearm would be. Even without a weapon present, Allen took the hint and backed off.

"Let me call it up." Allen picked at a scab on his face and reached for his phone. It took him about five minutes in which he was transferred up and up through the department till he reached Macklin's office. Brittany stood there waiting impatiently. "They're putting me through to the chief. I'd book it out of here if I were you. He probably won't be happy you were trying to sneak in here."

A voice on the other line cut off his taunt. "No. Yes. I understand, sir. Are you sure? I didn't mean anything by it. I'll tell her. Okay. Thank you, sir. Good bye." He placed the phone back on the receiver, but said nothing. Brittany raised her brow waiting for a response. Finally, "He said you were clear."

"Thought he would." She shoved the yellow beanie back on her head. "You gonna let me in?"

"Yeah." He buzzed the cage. "He also said not to take anything. Or he really will lock you up this time."

Before the PI would have ignored Macklin's threat as idle, even if he really didn't want her to disturb evidence and case files, but after seeing Santana in a cell all night, Britt shifted uncomfortably.

_Terry entered the bathroom without ceremony, but with familiarity that came with time spent together. Santana was just stepping out of the shower. _

_Naked, Santana pointed to the rack. "Hand me a towel."_

"_At least this isn't a total waste of a trip." Confidently, Terry passed her the white hotel towel. _

_Santana exchanged the covering for an apologetic expression. "You really didn't have to come." _

"_That's not what it sounded like."_

"_I know." But Santana refused to elaborate._

_Terry eyed her closely for a few seconds. They had worked closely together. Very close. It was obvious that Santana was hiding something or felt uncomfortable. And even though they never had an overtly affectionate relationship, it wasn't like their relationship had been carved out of stone. _

"_You're not happy I'm here."_

_Santana's expression instantly changed. "No. That's not it. I'm just out of it. I'm sorry." Santana stepped forward, but stopped as she realized, despite the towel, she was still soaking wet. Not the best time to give her lover a hug. "I promise I'm good."_

"_Okay good cause we've got some things to discuss, a few clients to talk about. We miss you." Terry paused with a smile. "I miss you. It's not the same."_

"_You're exaggerating. I'm sure they are more than happy to get away from at least one of us and now that you're here, they get a reprieve from both of us."_

"_You're probably right." Terry bent over and picked up the clothes Santana had stripped out of. _

"_Wait." Santana practically lunged forward. Her eyes were on the clothes she wore to Brittany's apartment. The clothes that she had picked off the blonde's floor not that long ago. The clothes that still smelled like the PI. The startled look on Terry's face reminded Santana she needed to separate herself. "I-um-"_

_Terry continued to ball the pile of clothing into her arms. Internally, Santana was cringing. But she smiled and reached out nonchalantly for the clothes. "What? I spend the night in a jail cell and you wanna baby me? Please, I can do my own laundry. It'll take more than a few hours in a cell by myself to ask for assistance of any kind."_

"_That's my girl." Terry willingly handed the clothes back over without any more thought to Santana's behavior. "So, if you're done playing jailbird, how about I take you out for a dinner work date?"_

_Santana's fingers unconsciously slid into the folds of the clothing. Her eyes had slipped from Terry's amber ones back down to the material. "Yeah, sure. Let me get dressed."_

"**What do you mean you're still doing work?" Jocelyn moaned.**

"**I can't just stop because Macklin sent me out of the office." Puck rubbed at his head harder. His thoughts were on Brittany. What bar would she go to first?**

"**You're seriously going to tell me that instead of fooling around with your incredibly attractive girlfriend, you're going to look at a few dusty old boxes and play with yourself?"**

"**I'm pretty sure I didn't say any of those things."**

"**You didn't have to." Jocelyn pouted across the room. Her eyes were big and pleading for him to step away from his work.**

"**Technically, I won't be looking at boxes and I don't think I'm allowed to play with myself." Puck moved to his living room where there was a computer desktop set up. A few clicks and swipes of the keyboard brought up his home screen. Curious, Jocelyn moved closer so she could see the screen.**

"**I'll bite. What are you doing?"**

**Puck logged into his account and pulled up the media player and started rolling the tape of the security feed to Santana's hotel room. **

**Jocelyn pulled over a kitchen chair and sat beside him. "Now would definitely **_**not**_** be the time to tell me that you're some sort of psycho or the Strangler. Cause I promise only one of us will make it out of this apartment alive."**

**Puck chuckled. "No. Nothing like that."**

Whatever Noah thought, it wasn't like that. Brittany didn't want to go to the bar. She didn't want the bottle. She had a taste of something and it had been better than everything she had been shoving down her system for the past four years.

Numb.

She was just numb right now.

"Can I ask you something?" Curious and wanting to feel something, Brittany paused as she passed Allen's station. "Remember when you called Santana's boss to confirm her status as a lawyer. Who did you talk to?"

"Oh, that bitch was crazy. I'm pretty sure she was the lawyer's boss or whatever. I told her she had a nice voice, the kind you hear on the phoning services-" He flashed her a toothy grin. "-I'm sure you know the kind, Pierce. And all of a sudden she was talking about sexual harassment law suits and that I better know who the fuck _Santana Lopez_ was and what kind of idiot was I that I had to call her for that information." He shook his head with a sneer. "Haven't forgotten that name since or her boss's name. Even wrote it down. Here it is: Nicole Terrence. Why ya asking?"

Brittany didn't know why she asked. She was just curious. Santana never hid Terry. She just never talked about her. Terry had been here the whole time. "It's nothing. I just wanted to know."

But of course Allen didn't let it go. He added. "Looking for a kinkier bitch than the lawyer to play with?" Brittany stilled. "Cause I think that chick on the phone, that Nicole or whatever, could top even you."

And he went there.

Brittany's body whipped around.

"_Wine?" Terry prompted. Her fingers were already ordering the red wine on the menu._

"_Beer." Santana cut into the order quickly with an almost apologetic smile to her partner. "I'll do a Yuengling."_

_The girl nodded and walked away to fill their drink orders. Santana was about to touch the menu to order food, but Terry had other plans._

"_So I brought some information about new clients and some of the problems we were talking about you handling when you came back home." Terry pulled out her briefcase and started to sort papers. Santana sighed with a smile as they easily fell back into roles they had been playing for over a year. Her hands moved of their own accord. The papers were sorted between them and a pen was passed over to her. It was purple, her favorite. Santana quirked an eyebrow as she took it. No, not just her favorite color, this was actually one of her pens. Terry gave her a knowing smirk. "What? I figured we'd get to mix some pleasure and business."_

"_You brought one of my pens?"_

"_I was looking for some paperwork in your office. While I was in there I might have taken a peek through your desk…"_

"_And confiscated my pen?"_

"_I might have looked at some things." Terry charmingly tried to reverse the word. Her lexicon expanded and switched to deflection. Santana recognized the tactic and didn't realize how much she missed this verbal sparring. "Does borrowed indefinitely sound better?"_

_Santana flipped the pen in her fingers with a smirk. It felt good. "It still feels like you were entering my office for the purpose of annexation."_

"_Annexation?" Terry purred the word with amusement. "Let's call it reconnoitering for purpose of future endeavors."_

"_Future endeavors?" Santana took the same playfully innocent tone. "Sounds like expansion. Either way, should I be worried about what you were looking for in there? Did you at least find it?"_

"_Oh I found it, but…" Terry flipped a few files onto the table. "I didn't find it in your office or even in Cali."_

"_Oh? Why's that?"_

"_What I was looking for was apparently all the way out here in New York."_

"_Oh." Santana blushed, but she wasn't sure if it was because Terry was talking about her, or that it was because Santana was thinking of what she had found in New York as well – who she found in New York._

_Guilt. _

_It was worse than any physical blow especially when Santana knew she was in the wrong. _

Brittany's forearm slammed into the mesh cage separating them. "The fuck you say, Allen?"

He jumped a foot back in alarm. His eyes were wide with surprise. "Nothing, Pierce. It was a fucking joke."

"Yeah, you're real fucking funny." Brittany eased off the cage. "Keep that shit to yourself."

"Fine. Whatever." He rubbed the back of his neck and sat back down on his stool. "You used to be fun, Pierce. What the fuck happened to you?"

Brittany brushed off the question. It was rhetorical anyway.

"**Noah, you're gonna go blind staring at the screen like that." Jocelyn sighed. She was on the couch watching the television. **

**The detective picked his head up and glanced over at her. Puzzled, he couldn't resist asking. "I thought you were a reporter or a news person or whatever. Why are you watching the news?"**

"**What?" She giggled a little and rolled her eyes. "Do you honestly think I just download information or get the news directly? I have to keep up on stuff. Besides, I like watching the competition sometimes."**

**But she was getting exasperated. "I'm going to grab something to eat. Want me to bring something over?"**

"**If you don't mind. I still have tons of video to go through and nothing's coming up."**

"**Is this your specialty because I never thought of you as the kind of video geek in the back room?" Jocelyn asked innocently enough as she pulled on her coat. "You've always struck me as the sexy chase a bad guy down with your shirt hanging open. Maybe a little dirt on your face."**

**Puck stood up from the computer with that smirk on his face. If either Brittany or Santana had been around, they would have ribbed him for still having the same "I'm-about-to-get-lucky" face that he had in high school. "I'm definitely **_**that**_** kind of cop."**

**The computer screen blinked a few times, but Puck had completely forgotten about his assignment. After all the shit he had dealt with the past few weeks, the past few days specifically, he definitely had earned some reprieve. **

"**You sure? Cause I've seen Brittany get like that, but all I've seen of your detective skills is your ability to stand in front of some yellow tape, I saw you give a very vague and poorly worded press conference, and once I think I saw you sit at your computer screen for hours when a girl was lounging in your apartment begging for attention."**

"**Begging?" Puck tried hard to ignore the fact that she was goading him on and making fun of the job he did. But it was hard. He did do all those things, but he did more than that! "I mean that's all true, but I-" What did he do that was exciting recently? It wasn't like he was in the field anymore. He was racking his brain for something sexy to say. Not that Jocelyn was really waiting for his answer. She was taking off her coat and unbuttoning her shirt with an amused expression, waiting for Puck to realize what she was doing. "-I helped a crossing guard the other day on the way to the Grouse. I was off-duty, so it's not like I had to stop, but I pulled out the flashers from my trunk anyway and stood there. The kids thought I was cool." That wasn't good enough. He racked his brain harder. "You know it's hard to do all the things Pierce does because she doesn't have to worry about protocol and she's still in the field. I don't really do field work anymore. But I can still get sweaty."**

"**Noah…" Jocelyn cooed and for the first time Puck realized she was practically naked. Her arms wrapped around his neck. "Shut up for a second and I can give you some field work."**

Brittany sat at a special work room. It had been cleared for the Strangler case specifically. Evidence boxes were neatly labeled and stacked around the edges. Red tape had been stretched across lids to keep them sealed so the chain of custody wouldn't be broken. The blonde PI slowly crossed the room. Her eyes scanned each label and lingered over the names of the Strangler victims on the white board on the wall. Lists had grown and would continue to grow unless they got their shit together.

The other board held Santana's name. It was obnoxiously large and bolded with underlines and circles. Even if Greene was being a general prick, it was clear that his focus on Santana wasn't just part of his need to fuck with everything connected to Brittany.

No, he really thought Santana had something to do with the Strangler case.

Once again, Brittany couldn't help thinking that he was right.

She didn't need Macklin babysitting her or getting upset with her any further so Brittany purposely avoided the boxes and anything with red tape. She couldn't tamper with evidence. Not in a case like this – not for Rachel's killer.

Bright blue eyes clouded. The last time she was down here had been with Santana. Santana had been the one to remind her not to fuck with the evidence. It hadn't been that long ago, but it felt like years since they found out Rachel had a Reckloose matchbook in her pocket. Her hand fingered the yellow beanie as she remembered how intimate their bodies had been in the dark and how close they had come to kissing. Santana had flicked her hat off her head and they had wrestled for a brief moment of normalcy in the darkness of the cages. Even then it had been confusing, but even when it was confusing, Brittany knew they had no chance together. She had made sure of that all those years ago.

There had been no hope. No anything for them.

She pressed the beanie further onto her head.

Santana's body pressed against hers. Those hungry, passionate kisses that had inflamed her body and stole life into her chest were hard to forget and too painful to remember.

Britt sat down at the desk. Greene's notes from the interrogation room were open.

And that's what Brittany had been looking for. Whatever Greene's angle, he had the right idea and that meant looking into Santana's life closer.

"_I need you to do the proofs and edits on this one." Terry handed over a piece of paper. Their dinner quickly descended from food and talking about the firm to actually making a mini office at the restaurant. A manager had come over about an hour ago to ask if they would need anything or to be moved to continue their work. Terry hadn't taken kindly to the suggestion that they leave, but the manager offered to seat them in the back of the restaurant where they could commandeer an extra table. His peace offering had been acceptable. So they were in the back passing around paper work and discussing strategies. _

"_Really?" Santana sighed with a smile. She didn't mind doing anything at the moment since work of any kind served as a necessary distraction. "Don't you have some intern to do that?"_

"_Intern?" Terry barked and rolled her eyes. "Can't trust those idiots with anything. You should see the new ones. Oh my god, they would probably faint every time they heard your heels clicking through the office."_

"_I can be pretty intimidating."_

"_And you hate incompetence of any kind. You should see these bumbling idiots. They can't even make copies properly. Do you see this?" Terry flipped up a piece of paper and turned it over. It was something so simple and insignificant, but Santana knew what Terry's problem was right away. But she waited for the other woman to continue. "What am I supposed to do? When I flip this piece of paper over, I don't want to have to flip it upside down as well. How hard is it to make double-sided copies that don't require extra work? It's simple and yet, here I am turning this paper over multiple times just so I can read it."_

_Santana took another sip of her beer with a smile._

"_It's annoying." Terry continued and passed the paper over. "Make sure you sign that after you read it."_

"_Sounds terrible." _

"_You have no idea. At least with you around, I could send you up and down the cubicles to strike fear in their hearts when I'm not around."_

"_Are you telling me I'm only good for scaring the rest of your employees?"_

"_You're also pretty decent at editing." Terry glanced down at the paper in Santana's hand. The brunette took the hint and started to read through the paperwork. "How's Tim?"_

"_Eh. I sent him away. He should be in Ohio or back home by now. He was getting too close to the case."_

"_Yeah, I know you two go way back and that's how we landed him as a client." Terry mused. "I didn't know when you said you went back, you meant all the way back to Ohio."_

"_I didn't mention that?" Santana's pen struck out an awkward sentence and rearranged the words. "We all go back to Ohio."_

_Santana was too busy editing to notice that Terry had stopped playing with her paperwork. Her amber eyes were roving over Santana's profile. She rarely missed an emotion or a hidden truth. She was very good at extracting things and moments that should remain buried. _

_She was searching now. _

* * *

_Santana's fingers flipped through paperwork and her eyes flipped over names and labels in her boss' desk. It had been a few months since that fateful night at the bar when she had taken the microphone on stage and sang her heart out to an ex-girlfriend who hadn't even been in the right time-zone to hear her lamentation. In that time, Santana had forgotten how to sleep, she ate TV dinners, and her down time amounted to a glass of red wine held up by stacks of paperwork on her coffee table. _

_Whatever had been said that night, Santana didn't really remember. _

_The only moment of clarity had been when she had woken up that morning, there had been a note for her._

_Monday Morning. 10am Meeting. Be there._

_N.T._

_Santana remembered picking that note up with trepidation and fear. She remembered thinking that she had royally fucked up. She was going to be fired from something stupid she had said when she was drinking. And she had sang. Of course, she had to pick a song with inappropriate language, not to mention it had been a total mood killer. Who sings a song about an ex at a celebration party for one's boss?_

_Apparently Santana Fucking Lopez did. _

_Santana had entered that meeting Monday and expected the worst. She wasn't that far off. _

_What started off as a simple meeting to discuss Santana's plans for the future and her future at the firm, quickly descended to a whirlwind of madness about Santana's own life, her expectations for the company, what skills she brought, how she intended to become a partner, and so on. The meeting had started at 10am on a Monday and here Santana was six months later on a Friday night. It felt like the meeting had never ended. _

_Nonstop working for the boss. One on one time, more responsibilities, and her own secretary just so Santana could keep up with Terry. _

_She barely had time to think for herself much less think about anything else. _

_It was good because when she did have a moment to herself, her mind always drifted back to the woman she had left. _

"_Lo!" Terry barked from the other side of the door. Even with panes of glass and wood which acted as a barrier, her boss' voice was loud enough to reach her. "Hurry up! I don't have time to wait for you!"_

"_I'm getting it!" Santana muttered under her breath. Sometimes she wasn't sure if she was colleague or a higher paid minion. All she knew was Terry had completely taken Santana under her wing and allowed no air to breathe or anyone else to use her. _

_Santana finally found the stack of papers Terry had so desperately needed. She clutched them and ran back into the meeting room where Terry was on a conference call. _

"_I'm going to turn this over to Ms. Santana Lopez to finish off this deal." Terry stated the moment Santana shut the door. _

"_What-?" She mouthed so their client on the other line couldn't hear them. _

"_She's more than capable and I'm sure you'll find that she deals harsher than I do. I would have accepted the terms as I presented them before." Terry goaded the person on the other line before she sat back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. Clearly, she was done and waiting for Santana to continue. _

"_Hello?" The voice asked._

_Santana stood still and didn't move. Why would Terry just throw her into this? This was a contract deal for Tim that had been messed up. Santana had gotten Terry to pick Tim up for consultation and she was just about to get him almost ninety percent of the money he was due from his past flick. _

_This was a big deal. Her boss knew how much this meant to her and to her good friend. This was Tim's contract they were handling. _

_And Terry just handed it over to her._

_Santana immediately sat down in the chair and broke it down. She flipped open the paperwork from Terry's desk as if it was her own. She had been assisting Terry on Tim's contract, but she had never expected to take lead. _

_It was over in an hour. _

"_Good job, Lopez." Terry had a very satisfied look on her face as she stood up from her corner of the conference room. _

_Santana was breathless. She couldn't believe she had gotten it all for Tim. Everything he was due and more. She felt weightless. _

"_Make sure you put my notes back in my desk."_

"_That's it?"_

"_Yeah, not bad." Terry smirked and adjusted her jacket. Then she saw the expression on Santana's face. "Oh right. This is your first? I guess we should celebrate. Come on. I'll get you a drink and you can have a total mental breakdown about how nerve-wracking that was for the next two hours."_

"_What?" Santana was confused._

"_It hasn't hit yet." Terry was already gathering her things. "Give it a few minutes. Put the notes away and meet me at my car."_

_Still in a daze, Santana walked through the offices. Her fingers were trembling by the time she shoved the paperwork back into the correct file._

_What if she didn't do it right? Could she have gotten Tim more? What if there wasn't a deal? Did Terry set her up? What if she only got half of the paperwork in? What if…_

_Santana's chest seized. There were so many things she should have done differently. Shit. Maybe that's why Terry wanted to take her out. Fuck. Santana went to close Terry's filing cabinet, but her eyes lingered._

_**Santana Lopez**_

_Her panic died down and her curiosity piqued. Unable to resist, Santana lifted the file and quickly flipped through the paperwork. Only one thing caught her eye. _

_Fuck._

_Her stomach bottomed out as she replaced the file and walked out of Terry's office. By the time she had gathered her things and walked out the doors of the firm, her boss had pulled up to the front of the building. _

"_Get in, Lopez. Took you long enough to file. Need to relearn the alphabet?"_

"_Ha." Santana coldly barked, but she climbed into the front seat._

"_What's your poison?" Terry playfully questioned as she pulled out of the parking lot. "You did pretty well back there."_

_But she quickly recognized the silence. "Did it hit you yet?" Terry asked knowingly. The first time always felt so good and then quickly turned to self-doubt and intense regret. _

"_You were going to fire me." Santana said quietly. She wasn't mad. She was confused. That memo, it had been for their meeting. For the meeting that had started this whirlwind of madness for the past six months. _

_Terry's eyes shifted from the road to the woman in her front seat for a moment. _

"_What did you see?"_

"_An email to your secretary to get all the paperwork necessary to let me go." Santana shook her head. She had done everything she was supposed to do._

"_But I didn't."_

"_But you were." Santana stressed. "Why? Why didn't you?"_

_She read the reasons on the email. No passion, no determination, no future at Matthews, Matthews, and Terrence. Nothing extraordinary._

_Terry made sure to make eye contact. Those amber eyes flicked to Santana's mouth and vividly remembered how it pressed to the microphone. __All Terry could think about was Santana's absolute and all consuming passion. Her hidden, but so desperately raw desire to have that which she longed for. It had been intoxicating to watch Santana battle internally against her most formidable foe, herself. __ "Because…" And the way Santana so desperately wanted. "Everyone deserves a second chance. Everyone deserves a shot at redemption."_

"_But…" Santana still didn't understand._

"_And you've earned it." Terry brushed it off. "Seriously, Lo, you did a good job today."_

_After that, their relationship changed drastically. Santana's new client had bumped her through the ranks. Terry broke her off and set her up in her own office. Santana had interns to work for her and her own stacks of papers. Work became her life. Whatever Terry had been looking for that night after the bar, she had found in a relentless and formidable force called Santana Lopez. She had been searching for that spark and instead Terry had found a fiery blaze._

* * *

Papers were strewn about the table surface, but Brittany wasn't quite sure what she was searching for. Nothing made sense and it seemed the more she looked at Greene's notes, the further away from the truth she traveled. Nothing made sense. Santana shouldn't have been receiving notes from the Strangler. No one else did and why start now? Where had the killer been this entire time? What had the Strangler been doing? He could have been arrested for another crime and just released, but then he would have been like Chester. And Brittany knew that a man like the Strangler was infinitely different than Chester. They were two different kinds of criminal.

But why Santana?

The PI's eyes lingered on the newspaper clipping with the brunette's picture featured.

Santana came back to New York and didn't tell her?

Brittany couldn't believe that. How could Santana had been here and Brittany not know? The world should have shook and fire should have rained from the sky, but it hadn't. Santana had come and gone with barely a whisper. Just a passing photo captured what should have been a momentous moment.

The PI flipped to the profiles.

The original profile for the Strangler and the one the FBI had made for this round of killings were very similar. White. Middle-aged man. Estranged childhood. Abuse. Intelligent.

Brittany had seen all that before.

But the other profile in her hand was something very different.

Female. Late twenties to early thirties. Copycat/apprentice. Estranged. Needs strong father figure. Could have already been killing as early as the first cycle. Strong connection to the original kills and killer.

Underneath the typed profile, Greene had written: Lopez.

There wasn't even a question mark.

Santana's name didn't seem right, but it had been written with such finality that Brittany felt an argument would be a moot point. They were obviously looking into a second killer – someone very close to the case. Why wouldn't they look at Santana? Her life had been drastically altered by the first series of murders and she would have privileged knowledge of the killer, the victimology, and the trophies. She was the obvious choice.

She was the easy answer.

Not even Brittany would fit the criteria. She was far too damaged for this profile. With a sigh, Brittany turned the page, but kept the picture of Santana from the newspaper clipping out.

"Pierce?" A voice sounded from the doorway.

Brittany raised her head expectantly. She had been waiting for this.

_They were winding down. Hours into their work and Santana was beat. Despite how physically and mentally exhausted she felt, her mind kept wandering to a certain blonde. It didn't matter how many words she crossed out or how many contracts she read over for Terry, her thoughts kept running back to Brittany. _

_Terry noticed her partner was starting to wane. It had been a long day, but they weren't done yet. She knew that as a concerned partner and a concerned boss, she should have been more supportive. What did normal couples do? Go to the movies or have some wine at dinner and not talk about work? That wasn't how their relationship worked. _

_They always had a great deal of respect for one another. More than enough respect that they refused to be the stereotypical couple. They just didn't have time for that._

_But did Terry know what she was doing when she made Santana work all evening? Did Terry know Santana would be tired and worn out?_

_Of course, she did._

_It wasn't manipulation. But it wasn't an accident that Terry waited until now to finally broach the subject of Santana's incarceration. It was strategic planning. _

"_Look, I'm not asking you to come back home. I know what's going on here is really important, Lo, but getting tossed in jail? Held for questioning? Your name's been linked to the Strangler case in ways that will stay with you for the rest of your career and probably life. It's going to take months to make sure we can squash the stories that will come out because of this. I don't think your reputation is ruined, but it's going to take a hit." _

_Terry wasn't playing anymore. This wasn't a fun sparring of words or playful banter about how dumb their clients were. Santana shifted in her seat. The pen in her hand went slack against the paper. But she remained quiet. Displeased with the silence, Terry needed Santana to give her some illumination as to what was happening here. When Santana didn't, Terry continued with a more forceful tactic. _

"_What the hell were you doing? You could have run rings around Tilt and that detective. I've seen you do it to big shots and politicians. I've seen you when every word that comes from your mouth is as lethal as a bullet. That Santana Lopez would have never been in that interrogation room for more than a few minutes and not without drawing blood. What's going on here?"_

_Santana said nothing. How could she explain that she had done it for Brittany? Staying in the interrogation room and having those chains around her ankles and wrists had been to protect another woman? _

_Terry was surprised by Santana's silence. In fact, she was shocked. Santana never shut up and she certainly didn't take attacks to her character without rebuttals. What the hell was happening here?_

"_Really? Nothing? You're not going to say anything?" Terry rolled her eyes. "If you've got nothing to say, I've got a few things I want to get off my chest."_

_The amber haired beauty from California pulled out a second stack of papers from her briefcase. Santana leaned back in her chair already aware that even if she tried to ignore Terry's questions, her partner would dig the answers out from her. There was no point resisting. Terry was insatiable especially when curious and she always got what she wanted. _

"_Terr, please just let it go." Santana didn't want to start anything. All she had wanted was to shower and to crawl into the hotel bed. Work stuff had been good. It had been distracting, but talking about her time here in New York meant talk would eventually lead to Brittany. And Santana had already betrayed Brittany enough today. The look on Brittany's face had been devastating when Terry had mentioned ex-lover. That was when Britt had taken off. Santana didn't want to revisit that moment ever again. It hurt far too much. "I took care of it and it's over."_

"_Took care of it?" Terry rolled her eyes. "Are you serious? I know you were in jail for the night, but you couldn't have lost all your senses or forgotten about me that easily."_

"_It's not like that."_

"_Of course, you wouldn't forget what I'm like. So you should remember that I'm not an idiot. And you most certainly didn't have everything under control." Terry pulled out a file. "I talked to Tilt."_

"_Shit…" Santana whispered under her breath._

"_He told me some interesting things."_

"_Terry…"_

"_You said I wouldn't regret helping you, Lo. Please tell me that the feeling I have in my stomach isn't regret." Terry flipped open the file and there was a picture of Brittany and Greene together. "Just assuage my doubts and say I can forget about it. And then I can drop it and I'll put the file away and we'll never have to talk about it again."_

_Amber eyes that sparkled with infinite intelligence and flashes of her predatory nature made contact with Santana's dark eyes and held them captive. _

"Didn't think I'd find you down here, Pierce."

"Where else would I be?" Brittany flippantly responded, but she looked up from Greene's notes.

"There are a few bars around and I heard the Grouse has a special drink option for blonde PIs who like to piss off the chief."

"If I meet one of those blonde PIs, I'll make sure I pass the information along."

"You're the only blonde PI, I can think of, the rest of them are bald and retired cops."

"But I don't think I piss you off that much."

Macklin grunted. "Humpf." He looked down at the paperwork Britt had scattered about with a frown. "Mind if I join you?"

"Gonna lock me up if I say no?" Brittany questioned with a raised brow.

The older man scratched at the scruff of salt and pepper on his chin with a cringe. "I know you're mad at me-" He took a seat anyway. "-and I deserve it."

His tone was personal and intimate. This was Andy talking, not Chief Macklin. Intrigued at the switch in voice, Brittany looked up again. The last time Andy talked to them had been when Santana had been ambushed by an obvious scare tactic from the Strangler. Brittany remembered the concern on Macklin's face when Santana had been shaking and sitting in the back of an ambulance. Santana had called him Andy and he knew that she wasn't okay.

What did he think about Brittany right now? The answer only served to darken her mood.

Macklin's eyes roved over the chaotic mess of papers Brittany had made.

"Whatever, Mack. I know you were just doing your job."

"Damn straight I was." He puffed up instinctively, but instantly backed down. "You're right I was. I was doing my job, Brittany." The PI couldn't remember a time he had ever used her first name. It had started as Ms. Pierce and eventually turned into that purple-faced yelling 'Pierce' so loud that she could hear him from anywhere in the department. "If I don't do my job now then I'd be just as bad as Garlow."

Brittany's lip curled at the name of the old chief who had allowed Rachel's killer to get away and subsequently almost kill Felicia. Garlow had been an arrogant prick.

"If I didn't keep her for questioning and follow protocol, then I would just as bad as he was when he ignored your information and told me he would send a patrol car out when he didn't." Macklin looked down at some of the papers and wished Brittany would understand where he was coming from. The two women put him in a precarious position, especially with their shared relationship to the case. It didn't make it easy. They didn't make it easy. Every moment spent with them was a stark reminder of his failure to protect not only Felicia, but every woman killed since then. It was a heavy burden to shoulder.

And Brittany's presence was a constant reminder of that failure.

Brittany felt uncomfortable at the intimacy of their conversation. She understood their connection and the tragedy which tied them together, but they never discussed it. "You're not Garlow. You could never be him."

"I'm sure he didn't start that way, but it was probably the little stuff that chipped him down until he no longer could make the right decisions." Macklin sighed. "I need to make the right decisions, Pierce. Not just for the department, but I have to do right by you and Santana. By Felicia, Anna, Lynette, Lana, and even Rachel."

Again, she shuffled anxiously at his admission. He wasn't just confessing his guilt and anxieties, but showing her the mettle of his character. Brittany's steel blue eyes softened as she glanced up. It was an intimacy she didn't take lightly.

"You're right by me." Brittany's whisper was infused with truth. "You've always been right by me."

"No, I haven't." Macklin shook his head softly. "And I'm sorry about that."

They both thought of the time he had kicked her out of the department. His rage had become the stuff of legends. Guiltily, Macklin knew he wouldn't be able to forgive her or himself after his meltdown. He had to save face and his office from coming under closer scrutiny from the new mayor.

Brittany's eyes batted in shame. She remembered her behavior during that time. Greene had been the tipping point, but she had been spiraling out of control for a long time and tearing Macklin's department apart piece by piece from the inside. "I did that to myself."

Macklin nodded as if he agreed, but it was hard. He didn't agree. The man blamed himself for everything that happened after the attack on Felicia. In every way, Macklin saw two young women self-destruct from a series of events he should have been able to stop. Brittany's collapse and Santana's flight, he blamed himself directly, but it seemed both conceited and foolish at the same to take the blame for their relationship's demise.

It was hard to admit that after all these years, Macklin still cared greatly for the outcome of the two women.

"Whatever happened, I just won't accept a repeat. So I have to do things right and that meant keeping Santana like that. I didn't like it and I know you were expecting a better answer than that. But it's the best one I can give you." He sighed. "It's the only way I know how to keep you both safe."

Brittany swallowed thickly, but gave Macklin absolute respect by keeping still. She didn't look away. Macklin made eye contact with her and they both nodded. A calm crept into her system at his declaration. It reminded Brittany of how family felt - how she used to feel or how Noah still made her feel sometimes. It felt good and natural. Somehow it felt like a betrayal because it felt too good, like she didn't deserve to feel this good or loved.

"Thank you." She choked and finally looked away.

Macklin respected the PI too much to embarrass her or himself even further with more emotions. He stood up from the chair and walked to the door. Silence settled as Brittany gathered herself.

Seconds passed before Andy turned around with a regretful, but serious sigh. "Because of this whole thing with Santana, I can't keep you as a consultant. Your access to resources and privileged information on the case will be limited drastically."

Brittany resisted the urge to react. He was doing it the right way. It was the right thing to do and Brittany understood why. It just didn't make it any easier. "I understand. Does that mean I have to leave now?"

Macklin didn't expect Britt to just say okay. His beard wiggled and then fell dormant. He had expected resistance and the lack thereof made him pause. "No. Stay as long as you want, but once you leave, your investigation will have to continue without our help."

"Thanks, Andy." Brittany whispered and pushed her beanie off her head just to show him some sort of begrudging respect. "For everything."

He grunted again. "Put your hat back on. I know you're going to put it on after I leave anyway." The chief stood and stretched with an exhausted sigh. "I'm sure I'll see you back here giving me problems in no time."

"You can count on that." Brittany tipped the yellow beanie to him as she replaced it back on her head.

"I know I can count on you."

Britt dearly missed his absence as the door closed and she was once again left to herself, the case, and her own thoughts. She wanted to thank him in more than a few words. The words just didn't seem like they were enough for what he just gave to her. Brittany nodded her head to herself and looked back down at Greene's notes beneath her.

**He looked down underneath him at the panting and exhausted Jocelyn. Needless to say, he was very pleased with himself. **

"**Does this mean I've sufficiently distracted you, detective?" The reporter purred into his ear.**

"**Ugh." He rolled over in the bed taking most of the sheets with him. "Rain check?"**

"**Rain check?" Jocelyn glared. "Really? Let's just go out to dinner."**

"**Can't. I've got people counting on me."**

Brittany felt her eyes growing heavy. She glanced to her phone. It was getting later and later, but she wasn't going to leave, not until she figured this shit out. But it didn't matter how many times she glanced over the same words, nothing new came to her.

"_You said I could trust you, Lo." Terry continued. "You said I wouldn't regret it."_

"_Terry." Santana lowered her voice, the tone dropped even further as she said her name once again. "Nicky." She went to a place of absolute intimacy. Terry rarely allowed anyone to address her by her first name. "I haven't done anything wrong and I haven't betrayed that trust."_

"_So what's this investigation you're running on the side?"_

"_I told you." The details of that conversation in the snowflakes falling softly were still clear. "I told you then that it had to do with her." She placed emphasis on the pronoun. _

"_Right." Terry nodded. "So that means you get arrested and your name smeared in every newspaper and blog on the east coast? There's obviously something I'm missing."_

"_She needed my help." Santana stated._

"_Help enough to ruin your name?"_

"_She didn't know." Santana bit back. "She had no idea what I was doing and I certainly didn't know it would blow up like this."_

"_Wait, so why did she think you were sitting in a cell?" Terry sat back in her chair completely baffled. "Did she think you were doing some sort of quality control in there?"_

"_I was trying to help her without her knowledge."_

_A small noise released from Terry's lips. "Now it makes sense why she called me. She honestly thought you were in trouble. I still don't understand why you had to help her behind bars."_

_Santana sighed. "I know you've read through her file."_

"_It makes quite an interesting read." _

_Her tongue stuck the top of her mouth as she bit back the instinct to defend Brittany. It was much harder to suppress a natural instinct to protect her ex-lover, because her words sizzled more than she intended. "I'm sure you caught the part about her arrest and officer assault."_

"_Kind of hard to miss."_

"_She couldn't have a second strike like that."_

"_So you were willing to take it?" Terry questioned in monotone. "__**You**__ could afford to take a strike."_

_It wasn't really a question anymore. Terry was incredibly intelligent and it didn't take long for her to piece together what she had already observed and recalled. "The black eye was her attempt at getting another arrest?"_

"_Something like that." Santana tapped the pen in her hand on the pad in front of her._

_Terry shook her head. "Jesus, Lo." She started to pack away Brittany's file back into her briefcase. "I know you better than that and that's just not something you would do. Your entire future – your career – everything we've been building together at the firm could be affected by this. You would never do that."_

_Did Terry know her so well? Because at the moment, Santana didn't even feel like she knew herself. She was straddling the line between two very different worlds. _

_Santana hadn't even thought about her own reputation. Her career? None of Terry's concerns had ever crossed Santana's mind. No, she had only been thinking about how Brittany lit up when she talked about Lucas. Santana had wanted to give that to Brittany. That had been her only desire when she called Terry for Tilt's information._

_And she would have done it again even knowing the consequences. _

"_I'm sorry, Terry. I really am." Sincerity cradled her unspoken apology for more grievances than Terry actually knew about. _

_Where was Brittany? She shouldn't be left alone. Would Puck be watching her? Fuck. _

"_It's fine. We can deal with it." Terry's voice easily accepted the apology, but her sharp eyes lingered with other thoughts._

"_Let's not do it tonight." Santana said with a sigh. _

"_No, of course not. You're tired and I still have to check in."_

"_You're not staying with me?" Santana asked surprised. She had assumed when Terry walked into her hotel room that she had done so via her own cardkey._

"_No, apparently, since you are a suspect in an ongoing serial killer investigation and under strict surveillance at the hotel, no one is allowed to share your room." Terry gave her a look of annoyance. "I'm not fighting it since I've already burned too many bridges today."_

_They stood up from the table, paid their check, and shared a cab. _

**With Jocelyn gone for a few minutes, Puck reluctantly returned to his computer. He loved spending the time with her, but after witnessing one of his best friends get arrested, Puck's mind was solely on the case. He wanted to please Macklin and show him that even in a limited capacity, he could still be valuable to the department. Besides, he had to redeem himself. It had been his relationship with Jocelyn that had dropped him from his position as lead detective. He wanted to prove to Mack and his peers they were wrong.**

**His pen struck the legal pad as he watched footage of the hotel room the day before the notes appeared in Santana's luggage.**

_Santana lifted garments from the dry cleaning and placed them onto their appropriate hooks. She purposely avoided touching the clothes she had worn in Brittany's apartment. They were balled and Santana had thrown them deep into the bottom drawer. She needed time to process and putting away her clothing was close enough to a reprieve. The hotel room was "home" or as close to it as she was getting for a long time. It felt foreign, like it should. She had no connections here. She thought about her house back in California and tried to remember how it felt to sit on her couch with a glass of wine accompanied by more work. She never turned on the television and her favorite side of the bed was the side with the least amount of paperwork on the sheets. _

_Home._

_This hotel was just as homey as her actual house. _

_She turned off the lights and climbed into the comforter. It was hard to find a comfortable position. Her mind was all over the place. Her body was reacting to the restlessness of her thoughts. Nothing felt right. A pit of anxiety had settled in her stomach and as much as she tried to dispel the growing worries, they continued to expand. Something wasn't right and she just had a bad feeling. _

_Puck better be watching Brittany. _

_Fuck. She should be watching Brittany._

_Her eyes closed as she tried once more to pound the pillow into submission for a soft place to land her head. _

The yellow beanie sank into the paperwork a while ago, but no one had come to disturb her or take her away. The PI had drifted into a deep sleep after serious deprivation and last night's excitement. Blonde hair spread across papers, pictures, and notes. Her chest rose softly and fell in a steady rhythm.

But she was not alone.

_No, eyes had been watching the woman's sleep for a few minutes without stepping into the room. But now the door creaked open and soft footsteps fell quietly, so as not to disturb the sleeping PI. Hands ghosted over Brittany's head before they gently brushed over the frayed and fuzzy ends of the yellow beanie on her head. Fingers hooked into the holes of the knitting and tugged until the material loosened and the rest of Brittany's hair fell onto the table. For a moment, the hand stilled and waited to see if the disturbance would wake the sleeping woman. But Brittany's breathing steadied and continued at the same pace. _

"_Hey." Santana's whisper was barely audible. _

_Brittany still didn't move. Santana was grateful. Her dark eyes ran over the white board in the room before she had entered. Her name was hard to miss. She would have been upset or furious if she hadn't looked down at Brittany spread across the desk. It reminded her of her house in California. It seemed neither of them was very good at finding, staying, and making a "home". _

_It was late. And since her big profile arrest and interrogation, everyone knew her. Macklin had been called right away. Santana didn't expect the preferential treatment or even kindness, but Macklin had told Santana not to bother looking for Brittany. Alarmed and worried that Brittany had been thrown into holding for drunk and disorderly conduct, Santana's eyes had been wide with panic. But Macklin quickly assured her, that wasn't even close to the reason. _

"_This shouldn't be allowed, but I'm kicking her out of there soon. And I don't want to look like I care if I go down there a second time." Macklin clicked his tongue. "So I'm going to send you down there just to check on her."_

"_Thanks."_

"_Don't mention it." Macklin sent a call down to the man who replaced Allen at the cage. "Seriously, Ms. Lopez, don't mention this to anyone. Just make sure she's okay."_

_Unable to sleep, unable to think about anything except for Brittany, Santana had thrown the covers from her body and exited from the hotel. Now, standing over her ex, Santana felt a wash of serenity blanket her. Her fingers ran between strands of golden hair with familiarity. Her dark eyes softened and she released a sigh. The chair next to Brittany was stacked with books and documents. Santana disengaged her fingers from stroking the blonde's head for a brief second to make room to sit. _

_Santana continued to speak softly to Brittany even though she knew the PI couldn't hear her. "I thought I'd find you at the Grouse again with that Jocelyn chick."_

"_I'm just happy you're here instead." Even without consciousness, the air still retained the tension from their earlier encounter. Santana's fingers delicately lifted the hair from Brittany's face and brushed it back behind her ear. The last two days had been a whirlwind of chaos. Sitting here and just touching the only person who could make her feel so many things at once, was reassuring. The dark bruise on Brittany's face had only grown and Santana's stomach clenched. Everything was so fucked up. _

_Her fingers parted her hair over and over again and Santana felt herself drifting to sleep._

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

_Santana's head snapped up, but Brittany remained perfectly still. _

_Allen was at the door signaling for her to come out. With regret, Santana stood from the chair. Carefully, she folded the beanie and placed it on the desk next to Brittany's head._

"_The chief says you can't spend all night here." Allen had just started his shift._

"_I understand." Santana closed the door with attention to make sure it wouldn't bang loudly and wake Brittany up. At least Brittany was somewhere safe._

**Frustration was mounting for Puck as he flipped through days of footage without a single break. He understood why Macklin demoted him, but there was nothing here. It would have been better to be on traffic duty than to keep spinning his wheels. He rubbed at the top of his head. It had been hours and he had nothing to show for it, just a brief tick in the footage which could have been anything. **

Not long after, Brittany woke up feeling oddly refreshed. She should have been incredibly sore from sleeping on the desk, but she felt rejuvenated. Blue eyes adjusted to the light of the work room.

Her hat? She reached up to adjust it, but nothing was there.

It was folded on the desk in front of her. Her pulse skipped. The last it had been folded had been the work of Santana, but…

Brittany looked around with hopeful expectation. No Santana. Just her name plastered everywhere, like her picture scattered about the newspaper clippings on the table beneath her. Britt clutched the hat in her hand and went to place it back over her head. But something underneath the hat caught her attention. It was the photo of Santana from the opening of Kurt's show a week before the killings started all over again.

J. Gage

**A knock came from Puck's door. The detective rolled his eyes, but it would be good to get away from the computer screen for a few minutes. **

"**Jocelyn?" Surprised, Puck pushed open the door for his girlfriend. "I thought you were sick of me being boring? And I thought you were bringing me food."**

**She shook her head. "No, but I was bored of waiting for you and then I got even more bored sitting at my apartment by myself." Jocelyn's eyes shifted to the computer. "You still hard at work?"**

"**I wish. I feel like I'm not doing anything." Puck sighed. "I don't even know why Macklin gave the video to me. It's not like I'm good at computers and stuff. I only know how to search for one thing on the internet and it's definitely not department approved material."**

**He smirked and Jocelyn gracefully smiled at his attempt at being charming. "And that's why I came over."**

"**Oh?"**

"**I came over to help." Jocelyn touched the side of his face.**

"The fuck…" Brittany picked up the newspaper from the table and popped the yellow beanie on her head. It was a quick write up about the show, but it was written by J. Gage. The name seemed so familiar. She circled the name around with a pen and flipped through the older newspaper clips from the original cycle of the Strangler. Again…

J. Gage

Who the fuck was J. Gage?

"**I talked to my cameraman who is fantastic at video. God knows why he's always awake at this time of the night." Jocelyn flipped her hand in the air. "He said you could bring the video over and he would go through it. He claims his equipment is better than the police's antiquated stuff."**

"**And he'd do it for me?"**

"**No!" Jocelyn chided Noah. "He'd do it for me."**

"**Okay…" Despite trusting Jocelyn with certain aspects of the case, Puck was still Macklin's man. Sure Joce could drink with Brittany and Santana and she could even hang out in his apartment, but she was still a reporter. "And there are no attachments? If he finds anything, it stays with us. You won't put it on the front page of the paper?"**

"**Promise." She winked. "As long as I get the first scoop."**

"**You can take that up with the chief."**

"**Fair enough. Grab your stuff." **

**Puck disconnected his usb, grabbed his jacket, and flipped his Blue Jackets hat on his head. "Thanks, Joce."**

"**Nope, the pleasure is all mine if we can wrap this shit up for round two before I want to go to sleep tonight."**

**Puck smirked as they climbed into his car. Before he peeled out, he sent a quick message on his phone.**

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Brittany was frantically flipping through clippings and pictures. J. Gage didn't just write columns on new opening shows in New York, but Gage happened to be one of the leading reporters on the Strangler case – past and current.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Her bright blue eyes scoured her stack for more mentions and anything that would lead her to a bigger connection than just a reporter who happened to write articles on the Strangler and take pictures of Santana when she happened to blow into town. There were over ten articles with the name and a picture of Santana.

It wasn't obvious at first, but Santana was in almost every single picture associated with the Strangler. Crime scene photos from the original killings where Santana stood in the distant background. The write-up of Felicia's near-death experience and it was Santana sitting in the back of an ambulance in the background. Even the next day's newspaper contained a picture of Santana as the PI consultant Chief Garlow was working with. And while Brittany was mentioned in the article, Brittany's face had been obscured by police escort through the hospital parking lot.

The phone stopped buzzing.

"Who the fuck is J. Gage?" Brittany swung her chair over to Greene's computer. The log-in screen prompted for a user name and password.

Puck wouldn't mind.

She quickly typed in Noah's information.

"**He let you have a key to his place?" Puck asked incredulously as Jocelyn opened the door to her cameraman's apartment. It was strange, but then again he had keys to Brittany's apartment and there wasn't anything weird about that.**

"**Yeah, he told me where his spares were at our studio so I picked them up before I went to collect you." Jocelyn's hand hesitated on the handle as she pushed it open.**

"**So you've never been here before?"**

"**No." She smarted. "Have you?"**

"**I was just curious."**

The name flashed in bold on the screen, but Brittany couldn't believe it.

Jocelyn Gage

Brittany felt sick. No record, but she was still in the database because of her connections with the media. The shock quickly spiraled to fear and panic. She flipped back to the desk and the second profile that Greene had written Santana's name over.

Female. Late twenties to early thirties. Copycat/apprentice. Estranged. Needs strong father figure. Could have already been killing as early as the first cycle. Strong connection to the original kills and killer.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Jocelyn.

"Puck!" She quickly remembered that Puck spent almost all his free time with the reporter.

**It was dark.**

**And for some reason finding a light switch in the apartment was proving difficult.**

She found her phone and Noah's message: Going to check out a lead with Jocelyn. Her cameraman might be able to help with the video.

He was with her right now. Fear gripped her tighter.

**He flipped his phone in the air to provide light. "Is he even in here?"**

"**I definitely told him we would be over tonight." Jocelyn said behind Puck as they inched forward in the dim light of their cell phones. "He said he would be here."**

"No. No. No." Brittany punched in Puck's number. "Come on, Noah. Pick up your phone. Come on."

"**I think I see a switch up here." He reached out for the wall, but his phone was buzzing. "Hold on. I think Pierce is calling me."**

"**Can you get the light first?" Jocelyn questioned with impatience. **

The phone clicked. "Puck?"

**Something hard hit him in the back of the head. Puck lost his balance and fell forward. But he turned around in the darkness to face his assailant. The light from the phone quickly vanished as it was lost in the scuffle. Fists flew and Puck hit furniture, and try as he might he couldn't gain a sense of his setting. He tripped over something large in the middle of the floor. He caught himself and tried to push off his hands and knees.**

The phone clicked a second time and went dead. "Puck!"

**A second blow to his head crushed his feeble grip on consciousness. He slumped forward.**

**A voice in the darkness above spoke. "I'm sorry."**

Brittany frantically redialed his number over and over again, but she got nothing. It went straight to voicemail. She grabbed her jacket and flew from the room. He better be okay.

He was a big boy, a good cop, a great detective, and most importantly, her best friend. He had to be okay. It didn't matter what she told herself, Brittany felt sick. Her stomach was turning and her palms were sweaty as she ran past Allen.

He was okay.

He'd call her back in a minute and tell her that he had dropped his phone. Maybe they'd get a drink at the Grouse. It would be okay.

* * *

**Thanks again for all the reviews. I loved writing this chapter. Can't wait to write more. Like I said, I don't know when the next update will be, but hopefully it is very soon. Hope everyone who is finishing their semester is more productive than I am! To everyone else, have a lovely week!**


	25. Chapter 25

**I wish I could accurately share how much fun it is writing this story with all of you. Thank you for all your feedback, worries, thrilling responses, heart palpitations, and encouragement! Part 2 is wrapping up and we are entering the final section of **_**Sirens**_**. Special thank you to everyone who has been boosting **_**Sirens**_** and a hearty "hiya!" to everyone just joining us. **

**I have a chapter of **_**IIAC**_** to write after finals and then onto Part 3! Thanks again and have a lovely start to the rest of your week! :)**

**I'd like to say thanks to everyone for being so understanding about my studies and the end of the semester. I can say that I did actually start (and finished this chapter) while procrastinating for my final term papers which I must finish tomorrow. :/ Ugh.**

**Onto something much better, the thrilling conclusion of Part 2 of…**

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 25**

Her mind was moving at a thousand miles an hour, but it seemed like her feet were dragging. The hallways stretched on forever and the desks were immovable obstacles. Brittany went over everything again and again. The words of the second profile continued to jump to the forefront of all her thoughts. There was no way to escape what she had just pieced together.

And that second click of the phone when there had been no answer, just dead silence.

Noah had better be okay or Brittany would kill him. Fuck. She would kill him if anything happened. It was hard to even fathom something bad happening to him. Her stomach soured. There weren't many people in the office because of the lateness of the hour. Brittany passed Puck's desk at full speed, but then threw on the breaks.

What the fuck was she doing?

She needed addresses and…

…back-up.

Fuck.

She tried to still the rapid patter of her heart, but it was hard. Her breathing remained uneven and adrenaline coursed through her veins without a filter. Shaky hands spun Puck's computer chair around. _He was fine_. She typed his username and password into the database. _He was fine._ Her fingers trembled as they typed Jocelyn's name fully into the computer. _He was fine._ Quickly, she scribbled down the address onto her notepad and then opened the internet browser. _He was fine._ _This was taking too fucking long. _She pounded the information on the computer keys. Noah said he would be visiting Jocelyn's cameraman's house to find out about the video footage of Santana's hotel. She clicked on the site for Jocelyn's news station and pulled the name Nelson Yorkshire._He had to be fine._ She copied and pasted the name into the police database so she could get an address for his place. _Why didn't he pick up his fucking phone?_ She jotted down the information. The last message Puck had sent her was about going to this guy's place so it would be the first place to look.

_He was okay. He was okay. He was fine._

Brittany logged out by clicking every button on the computer so it would go faster before she shoved Puck's chair back into his desk. The screen froze from her frantic button mashing. Too concerned with getting to her car, Brittany bent under the desk and pulled his plug. The computer screen blinked and went dead. A few sets of eyes glanced her way, but she had no time to explain. The PI was far too busy looking over the two addresses on her note pad. There wasn't enough time to check both places if Puck really was in trouble. Her bright blue eyes glanced to Macklin's office, but the chief had already gone home for the night. Her eyes continued around the station to the few men and women still there doing paperwork or working the night shift. Sure, Britt recognized a few of them due to her controversial presence around the office and her time spent at the Ruffed Grouse, but there wasn't a person there she would trust with her best friend's life.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Her heart wasn't taking a break any time soon. Panic was just beginning to rear its ugly head again. She needed to check both addresses _right now_. This was Puck. He was counting on her. If the roles were reversed, Puck would have rescued her by now. Desperate for answers and placation of any kind, she ran her hand nervously over her head just like Noah would have done. Warm, fuzzy strands of knitting clung to her fingers and Brittany sighed as she knew the answer to her dilemma.

There was only one other person she could trust with Puck's life.

"Hey…." Brittany spoke softly into her cell phone. The softness in her voice surprised even herself since she had been frantic only a second ago.

"Hey." A groggy and questioning voice responded. "Britt?" The sleeping woman on the other line questioned. It was late. Everyone should have been asleep and dreaming at this hour. Most people didn't have to worry if their friends weren't responding to late night phone calls because they could be sleeping with a killer. Most people didn't automatically think the worst when a friend called. Santana instinctively, but evenly, asked. "What's wrong?"

Brittany was surprised by the calm in Santana's voice. The blonde released a held breath. Vividly, Britt recalled the way Santana's fingers used to stroke her hair right before they would fall asleep at night together. She didn't know why the sudden memory had become so visceral or why it didn't seem like it happened so many years ago. In fact, it felt like Santana had touched her only moments ago. The recalled sensation lent Brittany the inner serenity to breathe before stating.

"I need a favor."

"What time is it?" Santana started to say and then rephrased. "Are you okay?"

Now alarmed crept like an uninvited, but familiar guest to her voice. They shouldn't know pain or fear, not like this. "No." Brittany knew no other way to mask the utter terror that had been building in her since the computer had revealed Jocelyn's name.

"Britt…" Brittany could hear sheets shifting and lights flicking on over the phone. Santana was stumbling out of her warm and protected covers and throwing on clothes. Brittany had no other choice. It had to be Santana. "Britt, you better be fucking okay right now…" Santana's voice hiked.

But which address?

Brittany's eyes ran over the possibilities and the names. She needed Santana because Puck needed both of them. She couldn't trust anyone in this department. Greene still had his men throughout and they believed Santana was a suspect and Puck was on suspension. But she would never send Santana into danger.

Her gut reacted. "I need you to check on Puck."

"That's the problem?" Santana wasn't buying her sudden switch to a favor. Brittany had just admitted that she wasn't okay.

"Yeah. He's not picking up his phone."

"Where is he?" Santana didn't call her out, but Brittany knew it wouldn't be long. They didn't have time to be cute. It was either all or nothing. This was for Puck and this was Santana. "That can't be the only reason you called."

Either Santana was her partner or she wasn't. Either she trusted Santana or she didn't.

"Jocelyn doesn't check out."

"Jocelyn doesn't what? Noah's Jocelyn?" Now alarm returned to Santana's voice.

"That profile they were trying to pin on you…" Brittany didn't have time to talk about all the pictures and J. Gage. "It matches her. I need you to check out her place. Make sure he isn't there."

Silence. Britt could hear her partner going through the various stages of doubt, suspicion, and worry. Could Santana trust Brittany? Honestly, if their places were reversed, Brittany wasn't sure if she would just blindly take Brittany's word for truth. But time was of the essence.

"What's the address?"

Again, Britt was surprised how easily Santana was willing to trust her. Quickly, Brittany rattled off the address. "Santana…"

A breathless pause. "Yeah, Britt?"

"Don't go in there. Just make sure his car isn't on the street."

"Britt, if Puck's in trouble then I am going to find him." Santana stated.

"I know, but…" Brittany paused again. The words that followed were weightier than their content. They held words they had only recently spoken out loud in anger, in passion, and in desire. These words were deeper than the ones that parted her lips. "Just be careful."

If Santana felt the full weight of Brittany's intentions, she didn't respond right away. But she did keep her silence for an extended second. Heartbeats could be heard between the receivers. "Where are you going?"

Brittany knew that Santana would have asked eventually, but she wished she would have prepared a better lie. "I'm going to check his apartment first."

Santana didn't believe her. "Where are you really going?"

"Just check out Jocelyn's apartment."

Santana's teeth were grinding. "Brittany Susan Pierce, don't you dare do anything reckless. Promise me you're just checking up on his apartment."

The PI threw open Ronny, the department loaner car. With a hand still holding her cell phone, her other hand methodically and reassuringly touched her gun holster. "If Puck's in trouble, I'm going to do whatever it takes to find him too, Santana." She repeated Santana's words.

The sound of the hotel room door closing came through the phone. Santana was already leaving. She would call a cab. Macklin would be alerted of her movement and send a patrol car to follow wherever she went because…he promised that he would do this the right way. If there was any trouble at Jocelyn's place, there would be undercover cops there to respond. No matter what, Santana would be safe and Brittany could count on her to thoroughly check for Puck. No Greene or inept police to fuck it up.

"Just be careful." Santana whispered and it felt like she wanted to add more.

And even if it wasn't true, Brittany could hear the unspoken words that Santana had so passionately yelled the other night in the apartment. It was enough. It was more than enough. Brittany cut her off before Santana could add or subtract from their undeclared feelings. "I'll see you soon, partner." The PI shoved the key into the ignition.

Brittany made one more phone call by the time she had pulled up to the second address she had taken down. That phone call had been equally as painful and stressed. At first, Macklin had been furious that Brittany had somehow acquired his personal house phone. But he swiftly forgot his rage.

It would buy her a few minutes to find Puck without police bullshit at this Nelson's apartment. Never trust a cop anyway. Last time she did that with someone's life, Felicia had almost died and everything got really fucked up.

This was the last place Puck said he was going. So it was the first place she would look.

* * *

"Can you stay here?" Santana asked the cab driver as he pulled up to the address. It wasn't an apartment building like Britt had said, but a little house much further out than Santana expected. The driver balked. "Look. I'm not staying here." She flashed him a fifty to which he shrugged and flipped the stick of the cab to park. "Thanks."

"Sure." He took the bill.

Santana cross the street and walked to the door. Everything was dark. She looked around. Puck's car was nowhere in sight and neither was the cruiser that he sometimes drove. The lights to Jocelyn's place were completely out and there didn't seem to be a person awake. Not that she expected anyone to be at this hour.

No Puck meant Brittany wanted her to leave.

But she said Jocelyn matched the female profile. Santana just couldn't believe it. This was the same woman Noah had been seeing for weeks and had met both Santana and Brittany. How could they have missed this?

Where the fuck was Noah?

Santana's shoulder dipped. Her purse slid down and her hand shuffled around the contents until she found the knife she had purchased the other day. It seemed so long ago. At least the knife would prove useful for the first time since she had bought it. Damn thing had been in a plastic baggie and processed a thousand times before Greene finally admitted there was nothing incriminating on the weapon.

Sure this was breaking and entering and yes, she was lawyer, a damn good one. The kind that knew exactly how many laws she was violating, but her best friend was missing. Frankly, she didn't give a fuck. It took only a few seconds before she had picked the lock to the window next to the door. It wasn't like high school anymore when Santana didn't have the slightest clue how to break into even the janitor's closet. Brittany had always been the one to conveniently find an "open" door somewhere. Years later, Santana finally figured out that Brittany had been the one fiddling with locks – Santana first realized Brittany's skills that time at Sue's house when this whole investigating stuff started. It had been fun then, even when Sue threated to torture them. But that was then.

Without Brittany around, Santana had to develop the skills herself.

The latch popped and she slid the window up.

Santana glanced once more, but she saw nothing, not even cars passing down the street. Nothing. Brittany said not to go in. She stepped across the threshold and very consciously flipped the knife in her hand. The weight of the blade felt comforting.

Nothing happened.

She flicked on the light to the foyer. Nothing again. It wasn't like Santana expected to be attacked, but she expected something.

There were pictures on the walls and coats hanging on racks. In the corner, Jocelyn had propped up her umbrella. It was everything anyone could hope to call home. In fact, it looked homier than Santana's place back in California. But Brittany had said Jocelyn didn't check out and that Puck was missing. Anything here could be a clue.

She rifled through Jocelyn's mail and shifted around some boxes that hadn't been open.

Nothing.

Santana moved to the kitchen and checked out Jocelyn's planner. It was riddled with Puck's name, places to be, names Santana didn't recognize, some she did, and other important notes which Santana guessed were related to her job. Nothing stood out. Santana closed the planner and moved to the living room.

Nothing.

The bedroom door was opened. A jacket caught her attention. Santana turned on more lights certain there was no one here, but she still held the knife out in her hand. On the bed, the colors of the Columbus Blue Jackets stood out on the patterned covers.

Puck's jacket.

Either he forgot it or Jocelyn was keeping it like a letterman jacket. Santana walked around the bed and pulled apart the contents of Jocelyn's night stand followed by her closet. Still nothing. Santana frowned. If Puck was in danger, danger enough to freak Britt out, and Brittany sent her here…

"Fuck, Britt…" Santana whispered in frustration as she slammed the closet door.

The room flooded with an explosion of lights followed directly by sirens. Reds and blues clashed with each other and hit every surface of Jocelyn's room. Santana covered her eyes, but not from the light.

This was a distraction. She was a distraction.

"Fuck."

Santana walked out of Jocelyn's room right as the front door bulged and then burst open. Uniformed police stormed the foyer accompanied by men and women in bulletproof vests. They invaded Jocelyn's place with purpose and perfect execution. Their firearms were up and trained on Santana.

"Drop the weapon!" One shouted.

The blade went slack in Santana's hand and her fingers uncurled allowing the knife to clatter to the ground harmlessly. So much for the knife being useful. That lasted for about five minutes.

"Hands on your head."

Santana complied, but her eyes were searching.

"Andy!" She spotted the older chief of police walking into the house with other department personnel. "Explain to them who I am."

His hands signaled for guns to be lowered. "Is anyone else with you, Santana?" Macklin asked as he broke through the lines of cops.

"No. I came here because Britt was worried about Noah." Santana bent down and retrieved her weapon. She closed the blade and threw it into her bag. "She couldn't reach Noah and she said Jocelyn was the copy cat or apprentice or whatever. What the fuck is going on? Where is Noah? Where is Brittany?"

"No one can reach Puckerman and I have no idea where Pierce went." Macklin's frown confirmed Santana's original fears from her conversation with Brittany on the phone. Wherever the PI had gone was where Puckerman, Jocelyn, and the real danger lied.

* * *

Jocelyn's car was parked across the street, but Brittany saw no sign of Puckerman's cruiser or personal car. They probably came together. At least, that was what it sounded like from the text. Getting into the shady apartment building had been no problem. Brittany had always been good at that. But this was different. She wasn't fighting off an alcohol induced buzz or sneaking into a building for surveillance on the dime of some client who was afraid their partner was cheating. Puck should be here. He should have picked up his phone.

And that fucking bitch Jocelyn…she would pay if anything happened. She would pay anyway.

Brittany looked up and down the hallway to make sure no curious eyes were watching as she fiddled with the lock on the door to Nelson's apartment. After a few tries, she felt the release. No time for celebration. Her right hand reached behind her back and lifted her gun up. Safety off. Puck better be in here having a cup of fucking tea with Jocelyn's cameraman. Britt had her cuffs, she could easily arrest Jocelyn and fight off Puck at the same time. He wouldn't understand, but once Britt explained everything, Puck would eventually forgive her for attacking and arresting his girlfriend.

She'd help him get a new one – one that wasn't a fucking psycho.

Slowly, she pushed the door open with the gun barrel out. The lights were off. It was complete darkness. Brittany steeled herself. Maybe Puck really was home and he was okay. She reached over for a light switch and struggled – no fucking switch. But she felt something touching the top of her yellow beanie. Britt flailed her left hand up and grabbed hold of a thin chain. Dim light from an uncovered light bulb lit up the foyer of the apartment.

Blue eyes struggled to adjust to the light. It was a bit of a shit hole. No pictures on the walls and there was dirt in the corners. In fact, it reminded Brittany of how her apartment used to look before the big clean-up. It meant Nelson didn't really care to live here.

Still no sign of anyone, but she kept her gun out and pointing in front of her.

"Puck? Hello? Nelson?" It wasn't smart to just yell out into a potentially dangerous situation, but Brittany was desperate to find Puck.

No answer.

She continued to walk forward. The dim light cast shadows on the walls and barely filtered into the living room. Still nothing. Her bright eyes glanced around the room. What if this was a dead end? Could Jocelyn already have Puck? Why would she want Puck? Why wouldn't he just pick up his fucking ph-

Wet.

Brittany's boot sank an almost imperceptible amount into the carpet.

She glanced down.

Red.

Even in the dim light from the hallway, the dark pool of liquid was recognizably blood.

"Oh fuck." Britt whispered. She stepped back. Her boots left red prints on the carpet of the floor.

Puck.

There was so much blood. She took another step back, the tracks of her boots left more impressions. Her left hand swung back for something to steady her. The lamp shade jostled in her clumsiness. And she flicked it on. The greater concentration of light revealed a decent size puddle of blood which covered a large amount of space on the carpet. A terrible shudder ran through her body at the sight. She was too late. Fuck she was too late.

But she saw the drag marks through the blood and on the floor. Whoever had been lying on the carpet had been dragged away. It couldn't be Puck. She tried to tell herself, but no matter what she said, Brittany knew this was Puck's blood and it was Puck's body that had been dragged. She took deep breaths. She had to keep it together. Puck was still alive somewhere. Pieces of his cell phone were scattered underneath a chair. Britt bent over, careful to stay away from the blood soaking the carpet, and picked up the pieces. Each piece, she gingerly placed into the pockets of Santana's jacket.

Maybe he was still here somewhere. There had to be something. She swallowed down more anxieties, but it was increasingly difficult to contain them. She had to keep it together. Puck needed her.

Britt moved away from the living room and opened the closest door. There were shoe prints that didn't match her boots. The bloodied tracks led to a small room. With her gun still trained in front of her, Britt opened the door. It was dark, but she reached up and flicked on another light chain hanging from the ceiling. The moment the light hit the small room, Brittany's hands gripped the frame of the door. Unsteady, Brittany sought the knob of the door to keep her steady. Her bright blue eyes widened in horror. Her mouth dropped and she fought the urge to freak out. This room was much different from the rest of Nelson's apartment.

She had made a mistake.

They had all made a big fucking mistake.

Brittany's eyes remained open and her fingers gripped the doorknob tighter to anchor herself. There was nowhere to focus. Her eyes were drawn everywhere and she felt like she was drowning. No wonder nothing made sense. They had handled this case all wrong. Santana was involved, but not in any way Greene thought.

They had been wrong from the moment Santana stepped off that plane. Overwhelmed, Brittany didn't even know where to start looking for where Puck would be. There were a million clues. Clues that all bore the same face. Brittany felt even sicker. The sight of so much blood in the other room and now the sickening hues of this photo development room, her vision was blurring. Her fingers struggled against the smooth knob. Where the fuck was Puck?

If that was his blood...?

Where would she even start looking for him? Everything was swirling into madness and despair. Even if they found him - if they found him, he would have lost so much blood.

Something familiar caught her attention and pulled her away from the damaging and negative effects of this damning revelation. A sudden rush of clarity fought off the mounting terror that had been building.

She knew where Puck was.

Fuck. She knew where to find Puck. But it didn't make her feel any better.

She reached into the pockets of Santana's jacket and pulled out her cell phone. There were a thousand messages from Santana and a hundred miss calls from Macklin that Brittany had purposely missed.

_Where are you?_

_Please be safe. _

_Why aren't you picking up?_

_BSP you better be fucking okay!_ She could hear Santana furiously typing and saying Brittany's name aloud.

_Britt? Please…just answer me_

The tone shifted. _Macklin's here which means wherever you are is where you think Noah is. Just tell me you're okay. I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you. _

That last text had been from five minutes ago. Perhaps in any other situation, Brittany would have felt guilty for letting Santana worry, but this was much bigger than hurt feelings. Santana couldn't follow her. Even if Puck was hurt, Brittany couldn't allow Santana to get caught up in this further. She was already in danger. Britt's eyes shifted to the walls – Santana was in a lot of danger.

_Don't come after me._ Brittany quickly sent the message.

The next message she sent to Macklin's phone. _I know where Puckerman is. I'm going to find him. Everything's going to be okay._

_Where are you, Pierce?_

_I won't tell you unless you can promise you won't let Santana come. _There was an extended pause between messages. The smell of blood wafted in the air from the living room.

Finally. _Fine._

_Bring a forensics team. You're going to want to sweep this entire place. We made a mistake. A big fucking mistake, Mack._

Brittany typed out Nelson'saddress and sent it to the chief. Her eyes subconsciously took another inventory of the room. The intensity of it all was almost too much. She couldn't waste any more time on this psycho's mental state. She needed to find Puck before anything else happened to him. As she passed the living room where Britt could only imagine a fight taking place, her eyes lingered on the pool of blood on the floor. There was so much blood. Noah better be okay. He better be fucking okay.

The phone buzzed in her hand again. This time it wasn't Macklin. _Don't do this, B. Let me help! You don't have to do this alone._

_Don't follow me. You need to stay safe._

_And you don't?_

Brittany didn't have an answer for Santana – at least not an answer that would be acceptable to her partner. So she typed the only thing that meant anything to either of them.

_I love you._

And then silence. No response came back. No buzz. No plea or question. Just silence. And that silence was loud enough.

Brittany knew her message had been received and accepted.

The PI rushed out of the apartment and dashed across the street to Ronny. Puck was counting on her.

* * *

_I love you._

Santana remembered the first time Brittany had whispered those words to her when they had been just silly teenagers at McKinley High School. Vividly, she remembered how hard her heart had been pounding, how clammy her hands had been, how terrified Brittany's innocent and earnestly spoken declaration had sent her into a panic because Santana knew, deep down inside, that she loved the blonde Cheerio back as more than just a friend.

Somehow this simple text message was much worse.

Because…

Now, she knew what it was to actually have that love and how temporary even the strongest affirmations of love were. It could all vanish in the blink of an eye.

The cell phone dropped and dangled loosely in her hand.

Wherever Brittany was going, it was into danger. Santana's stomach tightened and her heart raced. Frantically, she looked up. Macklin stood across from her. His expression confirmed her fears. The lawyer rushed over to him. Her hands gripped the sides of his jacket and pulled.

Brittany Susan Pierce had better keep herself safe or so help her, Santana would kill her.

Fuck. She would kill Brittany when she found her and then she would kill Noah for getting mixed up with a woman like Jocelyn.

They better be fucking okay.

Brittany better be okay.

"What did she tell you?" She demanded of the chief and expected answers. "Where is she going?"

"She told me you couldn't come." Macklin raised his hands and held her by the shoulders. She didn't blink. Her hard stare met his. In a contest of wills, Macklin understood it was an effort in futility against someone like Ms. Lopez. He knew that Pierce wasn't kidding when she requested Santana stay away from this address.

There were answers at this address.

He had a bad feeling, but Macklin's gut told him to keep Santana near.

"You can ride with me in my cruiser."

"Thank you."

He almost added _Don't tell Pierce_ but he had a feeling the point was moot. Just like fate, he knew no matter how far Brittany tried to distance Santana, they would always find each other. He just hoped it was in time to find Puckerman safe.

* * *

Pain. So much fucking pain. It felt like he was swimming in a sea of pain. His head hung low and despite what he told his body, he lacked the strength of will to lift even his chin. And it was either really dark or he couldn't open his eyes. It was cold. It was impossibly dark. All he felt was pain.

What happened?

"I'm sorry."

The same voice from the apartment.

"I'm sorry." It repeated and kept it saying over and over again.

Even though Puck struggled, memories were returning. The apartment. Jocelyn. The video. The darkness. Where was the light switch?

"I'm sorry."

Something hit him hard. He remembered that. Fuck. He remembered that. That's why he had such a hard time focusing. Again, he tried to open his eyes. This time, he did so with more success. Light hit him from above and blinded him, but at least his eyes were finally opening.

"You were supposed to be alone. He wasn't supposed to be there." The voice saying sorry was talking to someone else.

His eyes were dilating.

"You don't have to do this. Please." Another voice said.

"Joc-" Puck mumbled or tried to say her name. He didn't know what happened at the apartment, but he remembered his girlfriend had been there. "Jocelyn?" His feeble question broke into the conversation happening around him.

"Please, at least let me see if he's okay!" Puck recognized her voice, but she was a distance away. Noah lifted his head and attempted to pin point her location.

"No!" The man yelled in a terribly frantic voice. "This is all his fault!"

Footsteps were getting closer. Noah lifted his head up and his vision cleared as a body blocked the light from above. It was a man – one he didn't recognize.

"Jocelyn?" Noah's voice regained its strength.

"She can't help you." The same voice that had said sorry before Puck lost consciousness in the apartment definitively stated.

Smack.

Black.

* * *

"The chief said not to let you in here." A patrol cop stated as Santana pressed against his impeding hand. She didn't care that the pressure from his palm was forcing her back.

"Move." Santana's dark eyes smoldered.

The officer didn't miss the threats in her gaze. "I'm just doing my job."

"And I'm going to do mine."

Santana shoved him back and pushed her way through the door of the apartment. Nothing particularly malicious was in the foyer. In fact, the place looked like it was barely lived in. She kept walking. There was a reason Macklin allowed her to come with him and then ordered her to stay out of the apartment. His men had made a line around the entrance to the apartment and his forensics team had gone in. Santana had been forced to watch streams of men and women going in and out without any word of either Noah's or Brittany's safety. She needed answers. Santana walked into the living room with purpose, but stopped dead in her tracks.

It hit her before the sight on the ground.

Metallic.

God, she knew that smell. She remembered how red her hands had been and how insignificant her feeble attempts to hold someone's precious life in her hands had been. Unbound thoughts ran through her head. Felicia was going to die.

Just like Rachel.

And now….Puck was gone and this was the last place he had been.

Blood.

A dark pool of blood saturated the center of the living room at the cameraman's apartment.

Blood.

The sharp sting of metal invaded her senses and her vision blurred. Dark eyes drifted from the blood on the carpet to her outstretched hands. The world around her swirled. Her vision went in and out until Santana was convinced the blood was all over her. It covered her body. She was drowning in blood.

Red. Red. Red.

Staggered, Santana stepped back. She didn't belong here. She thought to herself, or the uniformed cop reiterated. It didn't matter. Her stomach turned and she swallowed stale bile.

The smell of blood never faded and the color never washed away. The lawyer's hands reached out for something to hold onto. Her hand hit a lamp shade and threw even stranger shadows across the carpet and up the walls. There had to be an anchor. Her hands ran over the wall and touched the wood molding of a doorway to her left. But it was difficult to find purchase. She stumbled backward, but hands held her in place right as her left hand caught onto the smooth surface of a door knob. Her body steadied and Santana's eyes unclouded from the fog of red. The feel of the door knob brought her back to reality and a sense of comfort dispelled the terrible visions from her mind.

"Santana, you shouldn't be here." Macklin's voice came from behind in this new room she had stumbled into. "I said you could come, but not in here. Get her out of here! Now!"

"Lopez, you are under investigation. You can't be in my crime scene." Greene barked and Santana started to turn.

"Don't let her turn around." Macklin's voice was more concerned for a specific reason.

Trapped, Santana felt compelled to turn around.

Her mouth dropped.

"What the fuck?"

"Quick! Someone grab her! Don't let her fall!" Macklin's voice ushered forth hands to hold her up in case she fainted, but Santana could never afford a weak constitution. Instead of fainting, she remained perfectly and torturously aware. It would have been a blessing to faint at that moment to escape.

"Get her out." Macklin was yelling. Greene was attempting to push Santana through the door. She didn't—couldn't move.

* * *

"Noah…" A voice called to him from the darkness. He opened his eyes much faster this time.

"Jocelyn?" He questioned. It was still dark wherever they were, but he could see her face not too far away. She had been crying. Agitated skin from tear streaks created red lines down the length of her cheeks and her eyes were puffy. More importantly, there were ropes binding her to a chair. "I'm coming." He stated. It didn't matter that he was unsure of his surroundings or hazy on the circumstances of Jocelyn's captivity, Puck tried to get up.

He struggled.

Coarse fibers bit into his flesh and curled his skin beneath their bindings. The detective glanced down. He was bound too. "I'm coming." His eyes flicked up and he could see the desperation in his voice reflected in Jocelyn's eyes. "Where is he?"

Jocelyn's eyes flicked to another door. Puck followed her line of sight to an open door where another light dimly filtered. Her silence meant that whoever their assailant was, he hadn't left them quite alone. He nodded to signal that he understood. Slower this time, Noah shifted his wrists to test the bindings. Tight. Very tight and very secure. He frowned and hoped Joce wouldn't be able to see him.

Her chest was rapidly moving up and down. She was frightened.

"I'm going to get us out of here. I promise." Noah whispered as assurance.

"Oh, Jesus. You're awake again." The man's voice came from the doorway. He stood silhouetted, but Puckerman could make out his rail thin frame and the glasses on his face. "Oh, Jesus."

"Nelson, please, this doesn't have to be bad. You just have to let us go." Jocelyn spoke – pleaded with their captor. "I know you and I know that you just made a mistake."

"No! No! No!" He was shouting and holding the sides of head near his ears. Puck grimaced. Whoever Nelson was, he was losing it and Jocelyn wasn't helping.

"We've worked together for so many years, I know this isn't you." She cooed, trying to get him to stop screaming "no".

But he was like a man possessed. His hands pounded harshly on his temples and his "no" grew louder and more violent. "Shut up!" He shouted. Jocelyn jumped back in the chair he had bound her to. Her brown eyes were wide with alarm, but he had successfully intimidated her into silence. "Shut up!" He was pointing at her, but not with a finger. Fear gripped the detective and he shuffled the chair he was attached to in panic to draw attention away from Jocelyn.

Nelson's gun turned from the woman to the detective.

"This is your fault!" The man named Nelson was shouting. "You weren't supposed to be there!" Puck had no idea what was going on and clearly their abductor was spiraling into madness. "She said she was bringing a tape of _her_ from the hotel room. You-" He directed the gun back to Jocelyn. "-didn't say you were bringing the detective! You said it was police footage you picked up!"

"I'm sorry." Jocelyn whimpered. The gun barrel was trained to her head. "I didn't know."

"Now they'll find it. They'll find all my work. My life's work and they'll come looking for me and I'll never get to see _her_ again when I'm behind bars."

Jocelyn's cameraman.

This had to be who Jocelyn was trying to get Puck to see. Nelson. Apparently, Jocelyn hadn't told Nelson everything about the tape and something went terribly wrong. Was Nelson the Strangler? Puck's brown eyes flicked to the gun barrel pointing to Jocelyn's forehead. Oh, God. Jocelyn matched the victimology of the Strangler – brown hair, brown eyes, she was the right age.

Again, he stressed_ her_. Puck had no idea what was going on, but clearly this all had to do with some other woman – not Jocelyn. He just had to keep Nelson's attention away from his girlfriend.

"Who are you talking about? Who won't you be able to see again?"

* * *

"Santana…" Macklin questioned softly, but his consultant hadn't moved since she caught sight of the walls in the picture development room. "Santana, are you okay?"

He questioned, but he knew the answer. No one would be okay in a room like this. After no response, Macklin felt compelled to glance to the walls where Santana's eyes were transfixed. Taped, stapled, and tacked to every section of the walls were pictures of Santana. From every angle, every vantage point, a picture had captured her profile. There were pictures from years ago and pictures of Santana in outfits Macklin recognized from this week. On the line for picture development, there was one of Santana in the outfit she had been wearing when Greene had arrested her from Brittany's apartment. Santana's eyes darted from frame to frame – her own eyes stared back at her from behind trees and next to cars.

"Wh-" Santana's tongue tripped over her articulation. "What-"

"This man is Jocelyn's cameraman. We just found the room, Santana. I didn't want you to come in here." Macklin stepped forward and tried to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, but Santana nimbly ducked his attempt. Before anyone could stop her, Santana's hands found the surface of the offending wall closest to the door. "Don't!" He cried out, but the lawyer's fingernails dug with fraught violence into the small space between the pictures and the plaster.

Too late.

Gloss paper, perfect for capturing the hues and beauties of the day, flew, shredded, around the room. Pieces and chunks of Santana's face, her eyes, and her hair scattered into the air. But no matter how many pictures she tore at, the sick feeling of violation deep in the pit of her stomach grew. Nothing made this okay. Nothing made her feel better.

This man – this Nelson had been watching her for a very long time. For years, since the first Strangler cycle.

Santana was breathing fast and hard. There were pictures of her with Brittany at their old apartment, in the park taking a run, and with her bag for class when she had resumed classes at law school. She wanted them down. She wanted all of them down. She wanted her life back. This was her fucking life!

"Santana!" Macklin lunged for her and wrapped his big arms around her waist. He pulled back.

"Lopez!" Greene growled and made an attempt to control her wrists. "These are the only clues we have to finding where Pierce and Puckerman went!"

"Why do you care if we find them or not?!" Santana yelled hysterically at the detective. Greene was absolutely the last person she wanted to see at this moment. His words were empty and served to inflame her fury and desperation to tear the apartment down to find her best-friend and ex-lover even further.

Greene tossed her back to preserve the integrity of the evidence. "Because it's my job to care." He growled under his breath. "And if anyone gets a crack at Pierce, it better be me."

"Get off me." Santana bit back. She didn't like Greene, but he had a fucking point. Brittany had come here and figured a way to find Noah. But there were so many pictures, so many places where Santana's face appeared. How could they possibly go through all these images and find a clue to Noah's whereabouts? Desperate for a solution, Santana turned to the only other person she trusted in New York. "Andy, tell me you have a tracker on her. Tell me that you put something, some kind of device on her so you would know where she is. I don't know how it works. But you've got to have something to find her. Can you trace her phone or that stupid car you gave her?"

Macklin shook his head. "Noah was her tracker. I gave her Puckerman to keep her safe. He was the one who kept tabs on her. I thought that would be enough. I never thought it would be Puckerman who would go missing."

The irony and hopelessness of the situation wasn't lost on Santana. "Fuck!"

"We are going to find them, Santana." Macklin stated with conviction. "We will find them. You just have to let us do our job."

Santana wasn't listening to Macklin. She didn't need reassurances and empty promises. She glanced down to her phone again. No more messages from Brittany. Her dark eyes glanced back to the thousands of photos. Britt had stood here not too long ago and sent those messages. At least Santana now understood why the PI refused to let her accompany Macklin. Despite their separate locations, a great deal of time had not passed. Brittany didn't need a forensics team or Macklin or even Greene to figure out where Puck had been taken.

She stood here.

Santana glanced back up. It felt uncanny to be staring back at a thousand mirror images of herself. What could Britt have possibly seen? Santana leaned back. Her back touched the wood door and the door knob pressed into the small of her back. It jolted her forward. But her dark eyes didn't leave the wall.

And then she saw it.

Her heart stopped.

"Andy…" Santana whispered. "I need to know the current occupants of an address, who do I ask?"

"Throw it to dispatch through my phone." Macklin tossed her his cell phone. His eyes were on the photos. The FBI had arrived. They were already excitedly talking about Nelson and his obsession. Their eyes and focus were completely on the walls. Apparently, they had forgotten the subject of his voyeuristic eye.

"Chief, go ahead." Dispatch answered Macklin's call.

"He's busy and told me to ask a question."

"Go ahead."

"I need to know the name on the deed to an address."

"Easy. What's the address?"

Santana looked at the picture hanging on the wall. It was a rarity, in that it didn't have Santana in it. But it was a place Santana knew very well – a place Brittany would know too.

Santana almost said _On the corner of Nothing and This-Will-Never-Work Streets. _But instead she gave the operator the actual names of the streets. "Franklin and Carolina."

"Okay…" The woman said and the sound of clicking keys could be heard. "Give me a second…"

"Sure." Santana's eyes locked onto the picture while she waited. The bricks weren't as dilapidated as she remembered from the first time. But it still held the same charm. Absolute charm. But the angle of the camera and the lack of life in the frame altered the building to take on a sinister appearance.

"Still there?" The operator asked.

"Yes." Santana quickly snapped out of her reverie. "Do you have the name of the current owner?"

"Actually, ma'am, there are two names on record who share the deed." The woman paused before reading the names. "Pierce, Brittany and Lopez, Santana. It's a studio and has a registered name: LT:PI. Will you need anything else?"

Santana bit her bottom lip as her eyes once again roved over the dance studio/ PI office. Four years later and Brittany still kept the studio, their studio. Why? Puck said he thought she sold it. It's not like she used it anymore. And if she wasn't there anymore, that meant it was abandoned. She paid for it, but no one was there. It would be the perfect place for a man obsessed with Santana to hide out. Fuck. "No, that's all. Thank you."

She hung up Macklin's phone and placed it on the work table in the room. There were a million places Brittany could have gone to find Puck, but Santana knew, she _knew_ without any doubt Brittany went to follow Puck to the studio. Her eyes lingered on Macklin's backside.

Trust.

Santana only trusted Brittany.

Macklin was talking to Greene. Greene was pointing to a few pictures of Santana outside the police department. The FBI had pulled out their own notes and were consulting with each other. "Clearly, this man has an unhealthy obsession with your consultant, Ms. Lopez. In fact, the way the pictures are mounted with care show that he worships her. Perhaps something happened in the past to make him indebted to her. This room is more like a work of art than a sinister display of voyeurism. By the lock on the door, I would venture to say that he values these pictures greatly. They hold a great amount of significance for him." Someone picked up a stack of postcards from the trash can that looked an awful lot like the one Tim found out Santana's apartment in California. "These look like rough drafts of the postcard sent to Ms. Lopez's address. There are scribble marks and rewrites. He must have spent hours deciding what words to write on the card."

Their analysis was difficult to block out, but Santana's mind was only focused on one person.

Brittany.

Santana zipped up the blonde's jacket and consciously pressed down the siding. There was no time to be upset or worried about whatever this Nelson had been doing in her life. Like all things, she would have to deal with that later. She reached into her purse and with adept hands, slid the blade from her bag to her pocket. The other occupants were so busy in the room, they didn't notice when Santana took a step back and then another. It wasn't until Santana was turning the ignition to Macklin's car that Greene turned around and realized the lawyer was gone.

"Chief…"

"What?" Macklin turned around. No Santana. The FBI paused with their profiling and the forensics people put down their baggies. They all glanced around. Macklin met all their eyes and confirmed – no Santana. "Shit."

"What should we do?"

"Go! Follow her!" Macklin was shouting. He lifted his cell phone from the work table. "Fucking Lopez." He flipped his cell phone open and quickly scanned his most recent calls. "Fucking Pierce." It was the station. "Fucking Puckerman." He redialed the number.

"Go ahead, chief."

"Alyssa, I need to know, in detail, everything you just told the woman who called you." Macklin glanced up and made eye contact with Derek. "What are you still doing here?! Find them!"

Greene nodded and sprinted out of the apartment.

* * *

"Ms. Lopez!" Nelson yelled at Puck. "You ruined everything!"

Puck didn't know what was happening. He could barely think straight, much less understand why Nelson had taken them or was shouting Santana's name.

"You ruined it!" Nelson dropped the gun to his side again. "You said you were bringing a tape. You said you acquired a tape of Ms. Lopez's hotel room! You didn't say you were bringing the police." He was pacing again. There was only a small light in the room and yet, Puck felt as if this place was familiar. Very carefully, he attempted to check out his surroundings without disturbing Nelson's rant. "They'll come for you! And they'll find all the work I've done. They'll find it all and take it all because you had to fuck the detective!" He was back to glaring at Jocelyn.

Alarmed, Noah jostled his chair back and forth. The noise startled both Jocelyn and Nelson. Joce's eyes pleaded for Noah to stop. Nelson was dangerous, obviously, but he couldn't risk this man taking out his rage on Puck's girlfriend. "What life's work? Are you talking about Santana?"

"Shut up! Shut up!" He charged at Puck, with the butt of his gun out first. Puck only had time to close his eyes and turn his head before Nelson pistol whipped him. Pain like wildfire erupted all over his body and he struggled to remain conscious. "You shut your fucking dirty mouth when you talk about Ms. Lopez! Or I'll kill her." He turned the gun on Jocelyn. The reporter was silently sobbing across the room behind a desk. Noah squinted through the darkness.

He knew that desk.

He knew this room.

Brittany's office. They were in Brittany's office. How? Why? Didn't Britt sell this place after Santana left and she lost Lucas? It was so hard to remember. She didn't even ask for his help to move out of the apartment she had shared with Santana. One night, Puck got a phone call from dispatch telling him that he had to pick up Britt from holding for drunk and disorderly conduct. Brittany hadn't even talked to him in the cruiser except to tell him where she was living. Puck didn't blame her. He had abandoned her on Macklin's orders during the custody battle.

He assumed she had sold the studio.

Puck stretched his jaw to make sure it was still intact. Hurt like fucking hell, but he was still aware and conscious.

"Why'd you take us here?" Puck straightened back up. He needed to keep Nelson away from Jocelyn. "You know they are going to find us. And then what's your plan?"

"They'll never find us here." Nelson yelled. He looked around Brittany's old office. Not much had changed – just a thick layer of dirt and dust covered all her old papers and filing cabinets. "No one comes here anymore – just me. Just me."

"Why come here?"

"Because this is where _she _used to be."

"But San-" Puck caught himself. "-Ms. Lopez is back in New York now. You don't have to hide in her old places to see her."

"She came back." Nelson was only half listening to everything Puck was saying.

"Yes, so you don't need to hide here anymore. You can let us go and have a nice chat with her. I'm sure she would love to meet someone who likes her as much as you do…"

"Like?" Nelson laughed. The gun was jumping in his hand again. Noah had a hard time not glancing at the barrel of the weapon. "I worship her! I've been waiting so long for her to come back to me. I was preparing something special for her! It was going to be the best gift and she was going to love it!"

"What was the gift? What were you going to give her?" Puck asked.

Nelson's fanatical rant stopped and his eyes ceased swirling around the office. They focused unnaturally on Puck. "It was going to be a surprise."

A noise echoing from the hallway made all three sets of eyes whip toward the door.

Nelson's eyes went wide with panic. He glanced back to Puck. "You told them where we are somehow!"

"You knocked me out. How could I have done that?"

"Someone's here." Nelson glanced to the door and back to his prisoners. "I'm not ready yet! Everything is ruined. You two stay here."

He glanced to Puck's bindings once again to make sure he was secured to the wooden chair. Once sufficiently satisfied, he darted from the room. The moment their captor fled the room, Puck turned to Jocelyn. She was still crying and looked terrible, but unlike Puck, she appeared physically unharmed. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"No, he put something over my mouth in the apartment. I tried to call out to you, but I just blacked out."

"Chloroform." He remembered tripping over something on the floor at Nelson's place. It could have been Jocelyn's body. Puck frowned and struggled against his bonds. "Did you know he was this crazy?"

"No. I just thought he was interested in the Strangler case because everyone is! So he would make sure we were covering everything and flip the rotations or beg me to ask for coverage. I did because it's a big story. I had no idea he was crazy." Jocelyn whispered and glanced to the door where Nelson had run. "Noah…is someone really coming to rescue us? Does anyone know where we are?"

Puck didn't respond right away. He thought about the question and the answer. The easiest answer was 'no,' but he did text Britt and even if the police didn't know where they had gone, Brittany did. But maybe she was hitting the bar already? She could be hammered and lying on the side of the road somewhere without a clue that they were in some real fucking trouble right now. His brown eyes met Jocelyn's green ones. But this was Brittany. She had never let him down before.

"Brittany knows." Puck said solemnly. "And she will find us. Don't worry. We're going to make it out of here."

* * *

Brittany didn't have many keys, or at least she didn't really use them because she had nothing important or valuable to lock up. But here, Brittany had placed a padlock and a thick chain around gates that she had once scaled. Her blue eyes peered through bars toward the studio. It had been a really long time. When she had sealed this place up and locked the gates, Britt had thought about selling the place, but she couldn't bring herself to give up all her dreams from her childhood. So it sat collecting dust. Eventually, the building started to revert to the way it had looked when she and Santana had broke into it before meeting with the real estate agent. It was fitting that without Santana, it would lose all the magic Brittany had sworn was hiding beneath the surface.

Maybe Santana had been right all those years ago when she said there was nothing here.

The key stuck in the lock, but Brittany gave it an extra wiggle. The lock popped and the chain loosened with the extra slack. She couldn't believe she was about to walk into the studio to save her best friend. Surreal. Everything was surreal. She took a step toward the building. In her mind, she imagined coming back here. But Santana had been next to her. Sometimes it was Lucas. Sometimes it had been all three of them. It had been a fantasy of triumph and redemption. Now, she was sprinting toward the studio doors in desperation.

Her key still worked on the front door. It was dark, but Brittany remembered the studio had a way of concealing light. She knew without a doubt, this was where Nelson took Puck. The glass doors to the studio clicked and Brittany cautiously pushed them open. The door hit a few boxes and boards that had been blocking the entrance. Brittany had to shove the door to break open enough of a space to slide through. She cringed at the noise it made, but it was too late now. The noise was made and she probably only had a limited time to get to Puck.

* * *

Santana pulled up to the studio. Ronny was sitting on the street, which meant this was where Brittany thought Puck was being held. She took a deep breath. He better be fucking okay and she would kill Brittany when she found her. There was no reason Brittany had to do everything alone; Santana didn't care how many times the PI said she wanted the lawyer to be safe. Santana's safety meant nothing if it meant losing Brittany. She left her purse in Macklin's car and pulled out the knife from Brittany's jacket pocket. She flipped the blade up a few times to reassure herself. Britt needed her.

She threw open the door to the cruiser and ran across the street. The sound of screeching tires stopped her from reaching the gates. Santana glanced up to see another cop car. It was speeding straight at her. Santana jumped up to the curb and leaned against the mesh gate where she had climbed all those years ago to follow Brittany.

What was a cop doing here? Macklin wouldn't have figured out the connection between the picture of the studio and know it was where Brittany and Santana had spent a majority of their time in New York together. Confused, Santana didn't go into the building yet. She didn't understand.

The door to the cruiser flung open followed by messy locks of dirty blonde hair and a sneer Santana would never forget.

Greene.

"Don't go in there, Ms. Lopez." Greene stated walking toward her. He had purposely killed the sirens and turned off the lights. "The chief is coming with the full force of the department. No need to risk yourself. Just come with me and when the chief shows, they can get Pierce and Puckerman to safety."

Warily, Santana watched as he approached. She side-eyed the gates to the studio that had been unlocked and left to swing open. "You know I can't just wait here."

"If you wait and let us do our job, they'll be safe." Greene took an extra step closer. Santana's attention turned back to him fully.

"If you were allowed to do your job, I'd still be in holding on trumped up charges and lies." Santana noticed he was getting closer. She'd only have one opportunity before he would disarm her and hold her till Andy arrived with the cavalry. By then, it could be too late for either Brittany or Noah. She didn't have time to debate ethics or time management or what the cops were supposed to be doing. Action was needed now. "I can't risk their lives waiting. I won't lose them."

"Then just come back here and wait for the chief." Greene ignored Santana's jab about his detective work on the case so far. He made a lunge for her.

Ready, Santana step-sided his attempted grapple. Her left knee drove directly up between his legs. The forceful drive of her knee right into his groin stopped him completely. Greene dropped with an exaggerated groan. His eyes shut and Santana's helped him to the ground with a hard shove to his shoulders. The detective went down holding himself and rolling on the cement sidewalk. "Fuck!" He yelled.

"I won't waste anymore time waiting." Santana stated, but the detective had no response. Despite everything happening, Santana took satisfaction in the look of Greene's face. She had wanted to do that forever. But her moment of triumph had to be cut short because no matter how vicious the sneak attack to his vulnerable manhood had been, the excruciating pain wouldn't keep Greene down for long. Santana left the detective writhing on the ground and sprinted into the studio, chasing after Brittany, just like she had so many years ago.

* * *

Britt's eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the studio quickly; besides, she knew this place like the back of her hand. Santana would come over after class or Mike would show up. Even Quinn would take the train into the city just to hang out. Occasionally, Santana would get just enough under the queen's skin to shame her into some guiltless trip to all the bars or into a dance class so Santana wouldn't feel completely out of place with actual dancers. Time hadn't been too kind to the interior of her beloved studio. The glass where people could view a current class had been broken and shards were scattered on the floor. Dirt and dust coated everything.

The gun barrel went first wherever she walked and whenever she turned a corner, but so far, Brittany had only encountered a rather large rat and a reflection of herself in the mirrors. She moved through the rooms checking to see if Puck had been thrown into any of them, but still no one. At one point, she could have sworn she heard a noise like footsteps running, but she didn't see anyone. The old warehouse building had more rooms than Brittany had been able to use when the studio had been fully operational, but she steadily made her way toward her office.

A light.

There was a light up ahead.

Britt's heart jumped into her throat, but she gulped down her fears. It was her office. Holding her firearm out, Brittany gingerly pushed the door open all the way.

"Oh fuck…" The PI whispered. "Puck!" Her voice cracked as she tried to be as quiet as possible.

"Britt?" Puck lifted his head to the door. He couldn't believe it. A great wave of relief washed over him. But he glanced to Jocelyn attached to Brittany's office chair behind the desk. "Untie her first! Don't worry about me."

"No, fuck that, you're hurt." Brittany walked to him after a half-glance in Jocelyn's direction. "I'm getting you out of here."

"Get her first." Puck moaned and pleaded.

"Fine." Brittany shifted her gun behind her back into the holster. She ran over to Jocelyn. "I heard you two were looking for a white knight to save you…"

Jocelyn coughed and sputtered. Full of nerves and stunned to see Brittany when she honestly thought Nelson would kill them, the reporter let out an awkward laugh. "Right now, I'll take the boy who bags my groceries if you can get us the fuck out of here before Nelson comes back."

"I prefer knight in shining armor." The PI lightly ribbed to keep Jocelyn relatively calm as she worked the ropes. Britt loosened her restraints enough for Jocelyn's hands to be free. The reporter started to work on the rest of the ropes holding her in place. The PI looked up to Puck with a frown. "He's still here?"

"He went to check out a noise." Puck confirmed.

"You probably heard me walk in the front door." Brittany pulled out her gun again. "Sit tight. I'll get you out."

"What are you doing here?" Nelson stood at the doorway. His eyes quickly assessed the situation as unfavorable because he let out a banshee scream before he raised his gun. Brittany didn't have time; she was standing straight up and vulnerable in the middle of the office. There was no way she would have time to shoot him or take cover. His finger squeezed the trigger of his gun.

Sirens.

Nelson's eyes glanced to the windows and his finger eased off the trigger.

Sirens.

Red and Blues.

And sirens flooded the room. Sensitivity to the light and the intensity of the sirens distracted Nelson for just a split second. He opened fire.

Bang. Bang.

Brittany had taken advantage of the moment and sprinted back behind the office desk. She manhandled Jocelyn down to the ground as they took cover. The bullets bit into the thick wood of the sturdy desk, but Britt knew it wouldn't be long before their cover would be blown. Nelson was too erratic, too unpredictable to think there was any place safe.

Bang. Bang.

Two more shots. One hit the wall behind them and the other went straight through the desk to the left of Brittany. The PI glanced over at the hole in the wood. It definitely wouldn't last long.

"Stay down and whatever you do, don't leave this cover." Brittany pushed Jocelyn against the wood even tighter. The reporter nodded frantically, but her eyes glanced over to Puck who was still across the room and connected to a chair. "He's going to be okay. I promise. Just stay down."

"Over here, you piece of shit, perv!" The PI called out to make sure Nelson kept his gunshots away from the completely defenseless Puck. She rolled away from the desk and sprinted to a pillar four steps away. Each step was accompanied by a round from Nelson's gun. Luckily, the bullets flew harmlessly by. As she reached cover, she glanced over to Jocelyn and signaled for the reporter to drop as low as she could. Quick to obey, Jocelyn pressed her shoulders into the wood and nodded that she understood. When she was certain of Jocelyn's safety, the PI took three deep breaths before she peeked around the pillar and returned fire.

Bang. Bang. The shots echoed through the room and throughout the studio.

* * *

Bang. Bang.

Sirens were bouncing through the corridors of the studio and lights blinked through windows, illuminating the floor with brilliant flashes of color. Santana's footsteps were matched only by the beating of her heart.

Gunshots overpowered the sirens outside. Each one felt like it went right through her gut. Each one made her die a little. Santana had no way of knowing who was shooting who – and if any of those bullets were connecting with the people she loved. Santana picked up her speed and glanced down at the blade in her hand. Bringing a knife to a gun fight seemed stupid, but she wasn't about to turn around now. She rounded the corner and saw the light coming from Brittany's office; it was definitely the source of the gunshots.

* * *

"I saw your little peep show!" Brittany was yelling from behind the pillar. Nelson wasn't a good shot, but he had managed to blow off a few chunks of stone. His shots were getting closer to hitting her and she didn't have many bullets left. He was hiding behind a filing cabinet and Jocelyn was still safe behind the desk. It was Puck the PI was worried about. "Couldn't get a girl to give it to you so you had to take pictures of a woman from behind some trees? That's real pathetic, Nelson."

"Shut up! Shut your mouth! You know nothing!" He was screaming from behind the cabinet and holding his arm awkwardly. Brittany was pretty sure she had nicked him with one of her bullets. She didn't want to kill him, but she wouldn't allow Puck to be hurt. She tried to take another peek from behind the pillar, but Nelson hit the pillar only an inch away from her face. The blonde quickly ducked back. Nelson was definitely getting better.

"What's the plan here, Nelson? You're gonna run out of bullets eventually and let me tell you, the police outside, they definitely won't run out any time soon. And they're coming for you! Make no mistake of that. Give up now and they'll take it easy on you."

But there was no response.

Not good.

Slowly, the blonde poked her head out from the pillar.

The sight in front of her sank her heart. It was everything she had been hoping to stop.

Nelson stood next to Puck. The barrel of his gun rested against her best friend's temple. Puck looked up with an apology in his eyes. "Drop the gun or I'll kill the detective."

Brittany didn't drop her gun, but she kept it held in front of her and aimed at Nelson. The cameraman didn't appreciate Brittany's boldness. He shifted his body behind the seated and tied up man to decrease Britt's target. If she shot, she would have to take a shot at Puckerman too. Her heart was pounding. If she dropped the gun, Nelson would have complete control over the situation. He could kill them all and they would be without any defenses. It would still be minutes before the police or SWAT teams stormed the studio.

Too much was at risk. She made eye contact with Noah and saw the same thoughts running through his head. He knew the score and nodded. It was the only way.

She took a step out from the pillar, but kept the gun pointing at Nelson. "You wouldn't do that because if you kill him, you can expect no mercy from the police. They will hunt you down and riddle you with so many bullets, not even your mother will be able to identify you. _Don't do anything stupid, Nelson_." Her voice dripped with threats and venom. This was their only chance at surviving. She knew it and Puck knew it, but it didn't make it any easier.

Nelson's eyes were flickering back and forth at an increased rate. His face was dripping sweat and he kept fidgeting with the trigger of the gun. "You think I won't do it?"

"Don't!" Brittany yelled.

Jocelyn screamed from behind the desk.

But Nelson turned the gun and fired.

Bang.

Puck cried out. His head slumped down to his chin and he was silent.

"Puck!" Brittany cried and took a step forward. Nelson raised the gun right then and aimed it at her face.

"Now-" He growled and sunk further behind Puck's unmoving body. "-drop the gun."

Brittany gulped. There was blood spilling uncontrolled down Puck's leg. Nelson had fired right into his thigh. He had already lost blood at the apartment. Now a gunshot wound to the thigh. Brittany didn't know how much time he had, but there was so much blood.

"Next time I shoot, I'll make sure it's to the head!" Nelson stated with a noticeably less shaky voice. Shooting Puck had snapped something inside of him. Britt was certain, that if pressured, Nelson really would end Puck's life. "Or I'll just shoot you."

"Okay!" Brittany held out her hand and loosened the grip she had on her gun. The weapon swung down her finger and twirled defenselessly toward the floor. "I'm putting it down."

"All the way. Put it on the ground and kick it to me." Nelson yelled. Britt gently placed the weapon on the ground and kicked it toward him. After the gun was too far from Brittany's reach, Nelson stood up. He pointed his gun out at her. "If I get rid of you, I can have her all to myself."

Santana got there just in time to see that he was about to kill Brittany. She reacted without thinking. "Nelson, don't!" Santana burst through the door of the office.

Jumpy, Nelson turned and shot the bullet he intended for Brittany's head at Santana. The bullet miraculously missed the brunette, but only by inches. Shaken, Santana was breathing heavily and clutched at her chest. She couldn't believe that he had just shot at her.

But apparently, he was even more surprised because his eyes widened in horror as he recognized the woman he just tried to kill. Stuttering, "Ms-Ms. Lopez! I didn't mean- I mean I would never-"

"Santana! No!" Everything that could go wrong was going wrong. Santana was supposed to be safe. She wasn't supposed to be anywhere near this chaos.

Brittany's voice broke Nelson's moment of compassion. He lifted his gun again and pointed it at the defenseless PI. "Stay there! You stay there!" His eyes were now shifting between Brittany and Santana.

Seeing a gun on Brittany the first time had been starkly terrifying, but the second time was even worse because she knew Nelson would shoot. And then…

Santana stepped forward and held her palm out in a show of faith and comfort. "Nelson…" She cooed, trying to mask the fear in her voice. If she made one mistake, she would lose Noah and Brittany. "Nelson…look at me…" He turned just slightly. "Look at me. That's it. Don't listen to her. Just look at me."

He turned his head, but kept the gun pointed at Brittany. Santana took a deep swallow. She had to be careful with her words – more careful than she had ever been in her life. She had been vicious in high school and as a lawyer; she was a terror in the court room. She could tear someone apart and have them begging for mercy, but under Terry's guidance, she had learned to control her language. She could manipulate and had a talent for deception. She had an eye and an ear for details and she had always been quick.

Words and conversations from Nelson's photo room and the profiles the FBI had been talking about came to her. Her recollection worked double-time. Details and phrases returned and her mind quickly constructed a way to get close to Nelson without him pulling that trigger.

Softly and with a gracious smile, her mother always said she had a penchant for acting and drama, Santana said, "I saw your room."

The sentence agitated him, like a small child who had been caught drawing on the walls or eating something forbidden.

But Santana's smile spread, "No. Please don't be upset. It's okay, Nelson." He stopped fidgeting for a second; he was unsure why Santana was telling him it was okay. "I really liked what you did. You really captured me. I was honored."

"Really? You mean it?"

"It was breathtaking." Santana whispered in a hushed voice. She took another step forward. "I didn't know someone could love as much as you do, Nelson. Clearly, you have so much love to share."

"I do!" He excitedly exclaimed. Nelson was completely amazed that Santana understood him. He spent so long putting together his masterpiece and now she wanted to accept it. "I've wanted to show you for so long, but I didn't know when and I was afraid."

"Don't be afraid. Come here and share it with me." Santana held out her hand even more. She stretched forward. The gun dipped and he stepped forward. Nelson forgot about Brittany and even ignored the moaning Puckerman. His eyes were completely on Santana. She continued to smile and beckon him forward.

One more step.

One more step.

Santana curled her fingers to summon him completely to her.

Brittany restrained the urge to fling herself forward. This was dangerous and it killed her to watch Santana taking such a risk.

"Come here, Nelson, and share it with me."

They embraced.

Santana looked over Nelson's shoulder. Her eyes met Brittany's bright blues and she finally found her anchor. Nelson's arms wrapped around her tight. His chin dropped into the crock of her neck as he found comfort in her.

The brunette's lips parted and she mouthed the words she had wanted to say every time Brittany had called her or texted her that night.

_I love you too._

Bang.

Nelson fired off the gun one last time.

"Santana!" Brittany rushed forward.

Jocelyn screamed once more.

But it was Nelson who slumped down this time. He had shot straight down into the floor. The gun dropped from his fingers and clattered to the floor. He looked up with disbelief in his eyes to Santana and then back down to his stomach. "Why?"

Santana took a step back. She still held the knife in her hand, but it was coated in red. It was like all those memories she had of Felicia dying in her hands and the way blood never washed off. Except this time, Santana didn't feel sick as she looked at her bloodied hands. Her eyes disconnected with the knife and Nelson. They rose to meet Brittany's from across the room.

She was safe. Puck was safe. They were all safe. It was going to be okay.

Boots hitting the floor echoed into the office room right before men with guns, shields, and batons rounded the corner.

"NYPD! Down on the ground!" They shouted.

Greene busted through the ranks and gave Santana a half-glance as he passed. He knocked the bleeding Nelson to the ground and kicked the gun away.

"Get the paramedics in here!" Someone was shouting. Bodies, polices, and medical personnel were storming the office. "Officer down!"

Santana tried to get to Puck, but the medics were cutting him from the chair. "Is he okay? Puck!"

A medic pushed her back. "He's going to be fine. We got here just in time. Give us space." Santana allowed them the room. They placed Puck on a stretcher and wheeled him out of the office before she could even make an argument. It was absolute chaos. Jocelyn had been intercepted and was also placed on a stretcher. Nelson was cuffed and the paramedics were haphazardly stitching his side. Santana took another step back.

It was over.

She looked down at her hands again. The red hadn't gone away. But she didn't have time to dwell on the implications or for flashbacks to disorient her like they always would because two familiar hands wrapped around hers. They confidently took the knife from her grip and tossed it to the ground. They interwove between her fingers and curled around her wrists until Santana realized she was no longer looking at the color of Nelson's blood, but she was gazing at her ex-lover's fingers instead.

The horror of the moment dispelled with the simplest of gestures.

Her eyes lifted and met Brittany's once more.

With that cocky half-smirk, Britt said, "Hey."

"Hey…" A smile tugged at the edges of her mouth. It felt like a miracle that she could be smiling right now.

For a second, neither of them said a word. The world around them moved, but they remained still. Finally, Brittany's smirk grew and her eyes sparkled. "It would have been a lot easier if you had a gun."

"Ha!" Santana barked out a laugh more to release her nerves than because she thought Brittany was funny. Her eyes focused on how calm the PI seemed at this moment and then she remembered. "Fuck you, Brittany!" Santana whacked the other woman's arm once and then twice. She fought off the urge to cry and laugh at the same time. She was so angry and at the same time so relieved. "Fuck you, Brittany Susan Pierce! If you ever do that to me again, I swear to God, I will kill you myself!"

Brittany let her hit her. After a few minutes, all the crazy energy and adrenaline that had been pumping through their systems eventually ebbed and then disappeared. They were both exhausted and spent. Instinctively, they leaned forward into each other; their bodies rested and relied on the strength of the other to keep them standing. Santana's fingers dug into the material of the jacket Britt was wearing and Brittany's arms wrapped around her partner's waist. Everyone moved around them. They had jobs to do and protocols to follow.

But Brittany and Santana?

They only had each other.

* * *

**End Part 2.**


	26. Chapter 26

**I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has been here from the beginning, everyone who has joined us along the way, all the people I freaked out because of my ridiculous cliffhangers, and a big endless thank you to my girlfriend for spending a lot of time editing and most importantly, not breaking up with me while writing this story (there have been some close calls – mostly, the kid chapter, that was the worst). **

**In celebration of the one year anniversary writing of **_**Sirens**_**, I decided to give you guys a celebration scene for Brittana. The flashback (along with the Reckloose scene) was going to be its own chapter (26), but the old Brittana scene fit into this chapter so nicely that I interwove it. I will eventually write a small ficlet of the Reckloose night. Sorry it didn't make the cut this time. Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

**My friend and fellow Brittana writer Balexi convinced me that twitter was a much easier place to talk/answer asks than Tumblr! So my handle over there is kell_nico**

**Feel free to hit me up anytime about anything! :D**

**Featuring vintage Brittana in…**

* * *

_**Sirens**_

**Chapter 26**

It was a blur.

Everything moved so fast and yet it seemed like time had stopped.

Sirens. Lights. Police. Reports. Reporters. Lights. People. Questions. Questions. Questions. Macklin. Greene. Moving. Yellow Tape. Strong Hands. They Didn't Let Go. Lines. Cars. Vans. SWAT. Forensics. Questions. Blood. Medics. Clean Station. Blood Pressure. Blue Eyes. Examinations. Ambulance. Questions. Spot Lights. Vehicles. Onlookers. The Crowd. Men. Women. An Older Couple Standing Hand in Hand. A Stretcher. More Medics. "We're fine." Lopez. Pierce. Puckerman. Clean-up Crew. Who Owns this Studio? "We do." Detective So-and-So. Internal Affairs. Blonde Hair. A Card. "Are you sure you don't need an ambulance?" Forceful Hands. More Sirens. Driving. Cars. Trucks. Highway. Sliding Doors. Hospital. Strong Hands. Blue Eyes. Blonde Hair.

Brittany.

She was the only thing that made sense as the world spun into madness. And it was as if she were attached to Santana. Even when IA tried to separate them for preliminary questions, Britt had assertively told them in a pleasant voice to fuck off. They backed off after that.

Santana wasn't sure on the details. But her hands weren't red. In fact, when she looked down, Santana couldn't recall the color – just the feel, the feel of Brittany's hands interlocked with her own.

Everything was going to be okay.

As if to confirm the feeling, Santana glanced down. Before she could even process what she was feeling, a small squeeze reaffirmed everything. It was going to be okay. She looked up. Britt was smiling. It was different. Santana couldn't remember the last time a smile made her feel so many things. More importantly, she couldn't remember the last time Brittany had smiled like that. The brunette felt compelled to return the gesture. Relief and gratitude, real gratitude, the kind that overcame experience and pain, spread through her as she met those eyes.

"I'll be right back. Okay?" Britt spoke softly before giving Santana's hand another squeeze. She waited for her partner to acquiesce before she released her grip.

"I need to know Detective Puckerman's room number." The nurse's eyes flicked to Santana and then back to Brittany before they went to the police stationed around the lobby.

"I can't give out that information."

"Yes, you can." Brittany insisted.

"Are you a blood relative or have any legal privileges to Noah Puckerman?"

"No, but-"

"-I'm afraid you will have to wait like everyone else." The nurse lifted her brows to indicate Brittany should join the other officers milling around the lobby waiting for a status update.

"Can you at least tell me what's happening with him?" Britt asked so quietly that Santana struggled to hear her. The harsh tones Santana had gotten used to, had all but disappeared in Brittany's voice. Santana remembered how hard Britt had been on Brenda when they were looking for Chester or the way she had pulled a gun so easily when chasing him or the way her fists had pounded into him during their "interrogation". This wasn't that Brittany. The blonde sincerely added. "Please."

The woman paused in her typing and peered into Brittany's candor request. "He's still in surgery. That's all I can tell you."

"Thank you." It was too early to push for more. She walked back toward Santana. "Hey."

Before Santana could say a word or respond, Brittany's fingers slipped back into hers. Her heart jumped just the slightest, but the small touch was enough to make all the words stick to the inside of Santana's throat. She did manage to ask about Puck. "He's still in surgery?"

"Yeah…" Brittany shrugged while brushing back some strands of hair from her face. "But I think he's going to be okay."

"He's going to be okay, Britt. That's what the paramedics said at the studio." Santana's eyes followed Brittany's other hand. No beanie. It must have fallen off sometime during the gunfight or afterwards in the chaos. Subconsciously, Santana turned into the blonde's body and she lifted a hand. Santana's fingers brushed back some of the more unruly strands of golden hair from her partner's face and tucked them with care behind her ear. Sometime in between the seconds it took for Santana's eyes to glance to Britt's hair and back to the blonde's eyes, she got lost. And try as she did to break from the spell, Santana could only weakly whisper. "You lost your beanie."

Any other time, Britt would have been upset or at least mildly distracted that another one of her hats were out of commission, but Brittany's breathing altered for different reasons. She held Santana's gaze unsure if she was dreaming. It felt like a dream to have Santana so possessively and confidently touching her.

Movement.

Santana's eyes flicked away.

Police straightened up and no longer slouched against the wall. They lifted their hands and stood erect. Curious, both women turned around to meet Macklin's gaze from across the lobby. He crooked his finger and even though he didn't say it, they heard him loud and clear.

_Pierce. _

_Ms. Lopez._

They looked at each other before they left the lobby to follow him. Apparently being the chief of police had its perks as Macklin had commandeered an unused room and beckoned them in.

"Do you know anything about Puck yet?" Britt blurted out.

Macklin frowned and shifted his eyes to the door. Santana took the hint and shut it so Andy could continue talking.

"We will talk about Puck, but before that…" His eyes took inventory of his two consultants. They looked like they had been through hell. "How are you two holding up?"

Both of them said, without looking at each other.

"We're fine."

"We're fine."

Macklin's frown only deepened. Of course they were bloody "fine" even if that was the exact opposite of what they really were.

"I want you both to get a clean bill of health from a doctor while you're here. I can't have either of you going down or have an injury that I don't know about."

"So you brought us in here to tell us to get an old guy to feel us up and sign a piece of paper saying we can run around on the play yard again?" Britt didn't like the stalling. So she repeated her question. "How's Puck doing?"

"Watch your tone, Pierce." Macklin grumbled. Leave it to Pierce to try to piss him off when he was trying to be nice to her and sensitive to what had just happened. Sometimes she made it so damn difficult. "I'm trying to work with you."

"Britt." Santana squeezed her partner's forearm. Britt half-glanced to her right and took a deep breath. "Andy, I know you are trying to be compassionate and thoughtful, but at the moment, we just want to know if Noah is going to be okay."

Macklin nodded. "Fine. We'll get back to the matter of you two in a moment. Puckerman needed a lot of blood and the doctor is in the middle of surgery right now. From what was told to me, it seems that Puck will be okay, but we won't know anything definite until he is out of surgery. New York's best doctors are with him right now, so I suggest praying." He didn't want to give them false hope, but the doctor had indicated that Puck would pull through. "And, no, Pierce, I can't let you go to see him until he's allowed to have visitors. I don't care how much you threaten or try to sneak your way through. Only family and emergency contacts are allowed in."

"I'm not his emergency contact?" Britt's brows furrowed in confusion.

"No."

"What?!" Britt scoffed in indignation. "He's my emergency contact! That asshole."

Macklin took in a deep breath through his flared nostrils. Patience. "Onto the matter of you two…"

"What do you mean?"

"Nelson Yorkshire will be making a full recovery. You didn't hit anything vital with your knife." Macklin stared straight at Santana. "But you'll have to undergo a small interview with Internal Affairs. You're still technically a consultant and a suspect, so it's going to be all sorts of messed up. Be truthful, Ms. Lopez. You'll be fully cleared when this whole thing is over and we can sort through Nelson's apartment. But upon preliminary assessments, the FBI doubts Nelson has any strong connections to the Strangler, if any at all. He does however answer your involvement in the case and the notes, therefore, any evidence that would have pointed to you being a copy cat or privileged to information will dissolve."

"So I'm cleared?"

"Tentatively."

"And we're back to square one with the Strangler?" Britt shook her head with a sigh. "Fuck."

"Not necessarily." Macklin debated whether to divulge information to Brittany that wasn't vital to her involvement in the case. "Nelson may still know something we don't. And like I said, he will be making a full recovery. We will be questioning him as soon as we can. Tilt is working on that with the hospital's board for a time line and securing all the necessary paperwork from one of the judges."

"So he's here too?" Britt questioned.

"Yes, he just got out of surgery." Mack glanced to both of them then back to Santana as if mention of Nelson's location reminded him that Santana had more or less been his target. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah…he didn't hurt me or anything." Santana said with more bravado than she had in the center of Nelson's trophy room.

Macklin allowed Santana to finish her bullshit response. No one would be fine. He wasn't even sure if he was fine at the moment. "I didn't mean physically."

"Honestly, Andy, I don't think I'll be okay until it's completely over."

Macklin held her gaze for a few long searching seconds before he accepted her amswer. "At least you're being honest. You know I'm here for you."

"I know."

"Could you give me a minute alone with Pierce?"

Santana frowned and glanced to her partner. Britt sighed and brushed back some of her hair again. No beanie for comfort. Macklin saw the hesitation and added. "It'll only be a minute."

They waited until Santana closed the door. Macklin moved around to the other side of the room and sat down on the hospital bed.

"Tonight could have been much worse, Pierce." Macklin shook his head and sighed. "A hell of a lot worse."

"Mack, I-"

"No. Let me finish." He cut her off. Macklin respected her and had a soft spot for her. But he knew how difficult, unruly, and reckless she could be. He also didn't want her to debase herself by making poor excuses for her actions. "Tonight was bad, Pierce. Real bad. And it could have been much worse, if you wouldn't have found Puckerman and Ms. Gage when you did. I wouldn't be telling you that my detective would have a full recovery. For that, I thank you."

Britt's heart was pounding. She hadn't been expecting this. "Mac-"

"But I thought we had an understanding. I thought we trusted each other. And because you couldn't trust me, Santana almost got killed. Trust can't be convenient for only you."

"Mack…"

"Damnit, Brittany, I'm still not done!" He cut her off and turned on of his famous shades of purple before he recognized his anger had gotten the best of him. He attempted to calm down. "You made a mistake. I made a mistake. Santana's made mistakes. We all know Puckerman's made mistakes. We've all made mistakes, Brittany, but it doesn't mean we are doomed to repeat them or…" He made sure he was looking right into her eyes. "…that we have to shoulder every mistake for the rest of our lives. No matter how hard you try, you're not going to be able to protect everyone or stop them from caring about you. Every single one of those people you almost got killed tonight love and care about you. You're not going to be able to push them away."

Britt swallowed. Tonight had been bad. She thought about how Puck got shot in front of her and how terrified Jocelyn had been.

But mostly, she thought about how close to death Santana had been. When Nelson freaked out that bullet barely grazed by her and he could have easily pulled the trigger on her ex-girlfriend a second time. The thought didn't come lightly. A hand on her shoulder stopped her thoughts. She looked up. Mack stood above her with a soft smile. If she didn't know any better, she would say it was pride in his eyes.

'You did good tonight, Pierce. You really did."

* * *

It was the waiting that was terrible. Everyone kept saying he would be okay. That he was okay. That surgery was going well.

But it was still the waiting that killed. Santana looked up to Brittany. The PI sat across from her on one of the other lobby chairs. Cops were either seated or leaning where the nurses and staff allowed them to linger. This kind of business was never good and it didn't matter if they personally knew Noah or not, he was still one of them.

Waiting.

Britt glanced up. Their eyes met.

Waiting.

Santana didn't know why her heart was beating just a little faster or why she only had eyes for the blonde.

Waiting.

"Is he out?" An officer asked a nurse. Instantly, the awkward tense silence of the lobby turned into a throng of officers battling their way to the front. Santana glanced to Brittany before they stood up from their seats. A doctor stood in the middle of the questions and concerned faces.

"Detective Puckerman is out of surgery. The bullet went through his leg cleanly, but he will require extensive therapy and some time to rest. I anticipate that he will gain full mobility of his leg and his concussion symptoms will clear up."

A cheer went through the group. People were clapping each other's hands and congratulating each other.

"So when can we take him out for a drink, doc?" Someone shouted.

The doctor shook his head with a smile. Santana had a feeling the doctor had personal experience drinking with the officers on the force. He must have patched quite a few of them up. "He lost a lot of blood and suffered from a blow to the head. I don't think he'll be joining you at the Grouse anytime soon. He's in the Intensive Care Unit and we will keep him in there for observation for the night. Unfortunately, that means he won't be accepting visitors at the moment."

A groan went through the ranks, but swiftly dispelled at the next suggestion. "Since Puckerman can't have a drink, how about you come over to the Grouse and we will buy you one, doc?"

The danger passed. Puck would be okay. Tension quickly fled the lobby as officers laughed and joked around with the doctor. Others were texting friends on patrol and phone calls were made back to the precinct to let everyone know that Puck was going to pull through. Elation spread through the ranks. Santana turned to face Brittany across the small table they had put between them. An exchange of genuine smiles passed between them in relief.

Puck was fine.

The lobby started to thin. Service hats were placed back on heads and shirts were straightened. It had been a long night and the light of early dawn was just starting to break. Britt found Macklin staring at them. She nodded once and he returned the gesture before he walked through the sliding glass doors. The chief had lots of work, paper, and asses to kiss before he could go to sleep. Patrol men were dispatched to keep watch over Puckerman's room to ensure there would be no further foul play. Macklin trusted nothing. FBI's preliminary investigation pointed to signs that Nelson wasn't the Strangler and since their approach to the case had been poorly directed, he didn't want to risk a vulnerable detective left defenseless in a public hospital. The other officers assigned to guard duty left to relieve those who had been standing over Nelson's procedure.

They could leave, but both women sat back down. Macklin understood. He would have joined them, but he didn't have the luxury. Someone had to answer for the shit show that had happened that night. The mayor's office had already called his cell phone a hundred times. Now that he knew for sure Puckerman was going to pull through, he could continue with his job.

Priorities had always been important to him. His eyes lingered on the two women as they settled back down into the lobby chairs. It was good to see he wasn't the only one who put stock in priorities. Noah was in good hands.

* * *

Short, stylishly cropped blonde hair bobbed through the lobby and purposely approached the nurse on duty. Within a few minutes, the nurse nodded and led the woman through the hallway.

Britt had only been half paying attention. Sometime after the good news of Noah's successful surgery, they had fallen uncomfortably asleep in the lobby chairs. The movement and something so familiar about this particular woman's stride subconsciously tugged at her. Brittany forced herself to sit up from the chair. There were almost no more officers in the lobby, just people with broken bones, sick children, and various other issues.

She looked up and realized Santana hadn't really been sleeping, but like Brittany, had awkwardly spilled out across the chair from exhaustion.

"Good morning." Santana breathed with a small smile.

Britt could see from her body position and easiness, that she hadn't been watching the nurse's station.

"I thought it was morning four hours ago."

"I don't know if three or four counts as 'good' morning."

Britt stretched and nodded in agreement. It seemed unreal that only a few hours ago, they had almost been killed. "Are they letting people see Puck now?"

"No idea. It's still pretty early…I can't imagine they would have moved him from ICU already." Santana followed Brittany's eyes and realized that it didn't matter what common sense came from her mouth, they both wanted to know how Noah was doing. "But I'm sure we can check."

Britt had already wrested herself from the chair and was stalking down the nurse from the previous night. Santana hung back silently, willing to allow Britt to take charge. The nurse sighed as she noticed Brittany's approach.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Pierce, Detective Puckerman is still not receiving visitors."

Despite being rejected once again, Brittany moved her way to the counter and leaned forward with a smile. Santana's eyes roved over her ex-lover's profile and how soft her cheeks looked without the shadows of a hat or the dark circles under her eyes.

"Now, Barbara, I know we've only known each other for a few hours, a few wonderful hours, where you've told me time and time again that my best friend was okay and recovering, but also that I couldn't see him. And I haven't argued or tried to sneak my way into see him because we have an understanding. But, I think that you aren't being completely honest with me now and that hurts, Barb."

"Miss Pierce, I assure you that nothing has changed since the last time you tried to charm your way into Detective Puckerman's bed." Barbara winked and gave the PI a less than amused smile, which at the same time, implied the type of worming she thought Britt was trying to accomplish by sneaking into Puck's room.

"What? Ew. _No_, _Barb_." Brittany instinctively reacted to Barbara's not so subtle insinuation. Santana snorted at the look of horror on Brittany's face. A smile spilt her face in a pleasant way that wouldn't leave. She was still smirking even as Brittany unsuccessfully attempted to convince the nurse that it was _nothing_ like that. Barb wasn't buying it. "Barb, please, that is not what is going on here."

"Well that's certainly not what it looks like. I've seen young love before…" She teased and started to put away the files in her hands as if her observation had settled any other questions.

"Hey! Before you start planning our wedding, Barb, I just want to know something. Have you allowed anyone to see him?" Something about that silhouette of a woman Brittany had vaguely seen when she had been in and out of consciousness made her ask Barbara about his visitors.

The nurse pursed her lips and placed the stack of files back down on the counter. Her eyes were once again searching Brittany. "There was a woman allowed to see him."

"A woman?" Brittany started to laugh, but quickly turned back to the unshakeable Barb. "What kind of woman? What woman? Who? It's Puck! I am the only woman in his life! Was it Jocelyn? She's not blonde."

"And you're trying to convince me that you don't have a crush on him?" Barb asked with a sarcastic, dry bite to her tone.

"As much as I love this banter, Barb, who did you let in there? Puck has no one except that half-brother or whatever of his from back in Lima."

"It was his emergency contact, hun."

"I'm the only blonde he knows! And I'm not his emergency contact, Barb, so whoever you let in there could be an imposter or someone looking to harm him! What's the name!?"

The nurse must have believed Brittany's genuine concern and alarm because she sighed and pulled out a binder. She flipped to the correct date and ran her finger across the line for Puckerman.

"Fabray."

Santana's smile evaporated. Her eyes quickly sought Brittany.

"Where is his room?" Santana stepped forward.

"I can't-"

"You can to me. I am his legal counsel and representative. You need to give me that room number now before his ex-girlfriend potentially tears him apart."

"113 second floor in ICU."

The two women wasted no time as they ran through the hospital. The police officer stationed at the door held his hand up for them to stop. Brittany burst through the door, but Santana hung back.

"You can't go in there!" He was yelling at both women.

Santana placed a comforting hand on his chest. "Please calm down, officer."

Brittany had already opened the dark room. There was just one person on one bed with a few chairs and a couch. Puck didn't share the room with anyone else.

Britt didn't know what she expected. With all the celebration, she had forgotten how stark and cold a hospital room could be. Puck was completely out. His chest was covered with white blankets and there were tubes connected to his arms. His eyes were closed and despite his rather ragged appearance, he was resting peacefully.

"I should have known you wouldn't be too far away." A very familiar voice came from beside Puck's bed. "Whenever anything happens, you are always somewhere near the middle of it. I don't know whether to slap you or Puck first."

Quinn Fabray's eyes snapped up.

Time hadn't changed the once head Cheerio of McKinley High School. She still packed rage in her eyes and intolerance for incompetence. Her time spent at Yale had been so rewarding that she ended up staying there indefinitely. One of her professors had taken a personal interest in her development. Years later, Quinn was Dean of Admissions and a terror on the Board of Directors. She had her hand in everything on campus and beyond. Already a divorcee, Quinn had no more children.

Through it all, she still maintained that strange relationship with Noah and Shelby regarding Beth. At times, Beth had the three most loving parents in the world. At other times, she had three parents who wanted to kill each other, but still loved her more than anything.

Beth was the best thing that had happened to each of them individually. Everything else in their lives always seemed to fall apart.

For Quinn, her divorce happened a month after Rachel's death.

It felt like high school again. Brittany's throat clenched and her words were lost.

"Santana…" Quinn whispered in quiet disbelief. Britt felt her ex-lover's presence behind her, but couldn't turn around. Just like that, all vehemence in Quinn's voice shifted quite rapidly to Santana. It really was just like high school. "How dare you show your face here?" She turned back to Brittany demanding answers. "She's here with you? And you two are here with Puck? And now he's in the hospital? Wonderful." Rachel's death had greatly changed Quinn's attitude. She was more like the girl they had known in high school, than the strong confident woman that had been accepted to Yale.

And just like in high school, Quinn changed tactics and targets faster than anyone could process. By the time she finished with one of them, she was digging at the other. Britt started the internal countdown.

_One Lord Tubbington_

"You come back to New York, Santana and you, Brittany, drag Noah into whatever mess you've gotten yourself into."

_Two Lord Tubbington_

"He can't get hurt and you're constantly putting him in danger! He is Beth's father and he means the world to her! How long will it take before I have to tell her that her father died?"

_Three Lord Tubbington_

"Everyone was hurting, Santana, and you just left? You know much fucking slack we all had to pick up after that? Puck nearly lost his job because of how uncontrollable Brittany was!"

_Four Lord Tubbin-_

"Enough, Quinn!" It took longer than it used to, but just like clockwork, Santana bit into Quinn's rant with a scathing retort. "Puck's injury was on the job. Brittany had nothing to do with that. Save the lecture about risks and safety for your baby daddy for another time, preferably when he's conscious. He's a big boy and his big job requires risk. Brittany was the one who saved his life. You should be thanking her!"

"Thanking her?" Quinn scoffed. "That's rich."

"Quinn, I don't have time for your attitude. We're here for Puck. He's been through too much to have you coming in here and raising hell. He and his girlfriend were kidnapped and almost killed. If you've got a problem with me, we can deal with it at another time."

"His girlfriend?"

"You didn't know? They've been dating for a few weeks ago." Britt finally rejoined the conversation. The look on Quinn's face confirmed that she had been unaware of Jocelyn and her status in Puck's life. Not that it mattered. Brittany had some more pressing issues to address. "Why are you Puck's emergency contact? Why aren't I?"

"Because, Brittany…" Quinn evened her stare from Santana back to the other blonde in the room. "You're the reason he's in the hospital most of time."

"So it would make more sense for me to be his contact because I would be next to him in the room anyway." Brittany reasoned with caution already sensing Quinn's anger rising.

"We are _not _fighting over this."

"Jeez, Quinn, I just don't want you to have to take time from your life to come down here. Puck and I can handle it." Britt tried to give her some reassurance.

Quinn gave up trying to be hard for a second. She looked back at the unconscious Puckerman. "It's not that." She sighed. "I should be here for him. I just…coming back here reminds me of _her_."

All three of them fell silent.

In the turmoil and fallout of Rachel's death, everyone was hit in different ways. It was hard to remember that everyone had their own problems to deal with. Quinn's life fell way out of sorts when she got the call. It had been Santana who dialed her number and Santana who took the brunt of Quinn's grief. Then her husband was the one shouldering most of Quinn's reaction, but after Santana had left and her husband left, it had been Brittany and Puck. Even they fell apart. In the end, no one communicated anymore.

Rachel really had been the captain of their small club in high school. In many ways, she had been the glue that held them together.

"You know these drugs are reaaaaaaalllllly good." A groggy voice entered the conversation. Three sets of eyes whipped to the bed. Puck was struggling to open his eyes. "Cause this is the opening scene to Puck's Hospital Fuck Time Luck. Except, and I'm sure it's a director's choice, you three were wearing a lot less clothing. Or maybe I'm supposed to be undressing you." His eyes popped open all the way in alarm. "Oh my god! Are we filming right now?" He called out. "Cut!"

Now all three of his "co-actresses" were looking at each other with concern.

"Puck?"

"You need to lean back." Quinn was already commanding the wounded detective.

"Yeah, but this is my scene." Confused, Puck was struggling to take off the hospital robe. Quinn's eyes were enough to still his hands.

"I promise, we can talk about staging and dialogue after you get some more sleep, Puck. I think PHFTL will be bigger than Girls Gone Wild, probably as big as Pirates." Brittany was biting her bottom lip with a devious smirk on her face. She threw her best bud a wink. Despite his injuries, it seemed that he was relatively the same Puckerman.

"Don't mess this up for me, Britt! I know how bad you are at being a wingman!" Puck hissed. "I was cast as lead male. I'm sure there is another scene for you to get all the ladies later."

Quinn's crazy eyes went from Puck to the PI. "Don't encourage him!"

"I'm not! I think his film sounds great!" The smirk on her face was hard to read. Quinn was unsure if Britt was actually playing Puck or really thought his porn pitch was legit. She ignored Quinn's crazy eyes because sometime between junior and senior year of high school, Quinn's crazy eyes had permanently replaced her normal ones. She gave Puck a "bro nod" and pumped her fist twice on her chest. "I got you. No worries. My people will call your people and hammer out our collaboration piece."

Quinn was positively fuming. Her fingers found the nurse's alert button and she was smashing it with her thumb repeatedly. Santana was repressing the urge to laugh, but she knew better than to gang up on Quinn. Instead, she leaned over Puck's body and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead. Gently, she replaced the covers that he had attempted to rip off his body. "Get some sleep, Noah. We'll be here when you wake up."

"Don't make wardrobe decisions without me."

"What wardrobe?" Brittany asked with that playful tint in her eye.

Puck caught it right as he was falling back to sleep. He smiled and muttered. "That's my wingman."

He passed out and two nurses entered the room. They immediately pushed through the three women and started to check his vitals. When they were satisfied with the detective's health and the monitors, the one nurse rounded on them.

"What are you doing in here?"

"Don't worry about it. We're family. You can talk to Barb up front. She cleared us to visit."

Barb's name was apparently an acceptable answer because the woman rethought her immediate reaction to call for the police officer outside the room to escort them out of the ICU. "How did the alarm go off?"

"He woke up and I thought we should alert you." Quinn stated and then glared at Brittany before continuing. "He was speaking gibberish."

"Well, Detective Puckerman is on a lot of pain medication. He did just come out of surgery. I doubt he will wake up again anytime soon. Which means, despite Barb's lax approach to the number of visitors allowed in the ICU, you'll have to wait for him somewhere else."

"I have to get back to Yale anyway…" Quinn said with a look back to the prostrate man on the bed. Always hard to understand, Quinn's expression was once again conflicted. Her eyes roved over her two former best friends from high school. "I trust you two can take care of him…

"I'll tell him you stopped by." Britt prompted.

"Thank you, Brittany. Tell him that I will ask Shelby to bring Beth around when he's on his feet again. No need for her to see him like this." They walked out of the room together. Quinn's heels were already clicking on the tile as she tried to leave quickly.

"Q." Santana grabbed Quinn's wrist and pulled her back. Brittany was a respectful distance away. "I'm sorry I left."

"We all handled it different, Santana." Quinn's sharp eyes glanced to Santana's wrist and then back up. "I hope it was worth it."

Santana didn't have an answer for her. She fought the urge to glance back to the PI.

"I don't want to attend another funeral. Take care of him." Quinn continued and caught sight of Brittany chatting to an attendant. With a nostalgic and forgiving smile, Quinn added. "And take care of your girl."

_Your girl._

Santana didn't know what to say.

"Here. I brought some clothes for Puck from my house. It looks like he won't need them for awhile. Maybe you and Brittany should change into them. You look like you've been through hell." Quinn pulled out a stack of shirts from her tote and handed them over. "When you find the bastard that killed her, make him pay, Santana. Make him pay." It was not a request. Santana nodded and Quinn kept walking.

* * *

"Don't fight me on this, Britt!" Santana was playfully scolding her partner. "Just let get you one band-aid and we can clean you up!"

"It's fine!" The blonde was arguing. She had a hand over the side of her face. It was the only piece of her body that hadn't officially been changed. They were both wearing button-down shirts that were way too big and belonged to their sleeping friend. But at least they were clean. After Puck had been moved into his own room out of ICU, Barb had allowed them to use a shower and clean off. Puck was sleeping peacefully and had awoken once more for a few seconds before falling back to sleep. Clean and safe, the two women had taken over his room.

Their dirty clothes still caked in dried blood, dust, and debris from the studio hung over chairs and were scattered. Brittany was standing on one side of Puck's bed. Her blonde hair was damp and clung to her face. Her bright eyes were daring Santana to come at her. The brunette's gaze wasn't as playful. She was dead serious about changing and cleaning her partner's wound from Peterson's fist.

"Britt!"

"No! It's fine!"

"Just let me make sure it's clean!"

"I cleaned it in the bathroom!"

"Liar!"

"Really, I don't need anyone to baby me!" Brittany pulled back from Puck's bedside. The smile on her face had grown to ridiculous proportions.

And as much as Santana wanted to be the responsible one at the moment and fight off the blonde's irresistible charm, there was a reason it was impossible to resist. Her own lips tugged into a wide smile even when though she was trying to scold the woman. She couldn't remember the last time they could laugh like this, but Santana could remember the last time they had been in this position. Except it wasn't a bed between them, but the couch in their apartment. It was for something silly, like a smudge on her ex's face or something just as ridiculous, but Brittany made everything into a game.

"I'm not babying you!" Santana retorted.

"I'm not a baby." The body between them groaned.

"Puck?" Britt's attention snapped down to their mutual friend. The smile on her face from fooling around with Santana hadn't dimmed. "Hey buddy!"

"Britt?" He shifted his head slightly to the side and caught sight of Santana. "Tana?"

"We're here." He already sounded much more coherent than the last time he had woken up. Santana shifted from trying to vault over his bed to a more natural position in the seat next to his bedside table. "How you feeling?"

"I don't know…everything's kinda numb."

"That's cause they are pumping you full of the good stuff." Britt sat down on the other side. Her sparkling eyes lifted from her best friend's face to the woman who made her feel like everything was going to be okay. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Scared you? He shot me! What were you worried about?" Puck joked. His eyes widened at a sudden thought. "Where's Jocelyn? Is she okay? Was she hurt?"

"Just scared, Puck." Britt placed a firm hand on his upper torso. "She was sent home last night after she was cleared. The doctor gave her strict orders to rest. She's been calling us every hour for an update on you. She would be here if she could."

"But she's safe?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Puck said with a small smile. He lifted his hand and brushed the top of his head. Both women bit their bottom lips. Oh right. They forgot about that. "What happened to my hair?"

"Well…" Britt said with a smirk. "Nelson bumped you pretty hard on the head. So, the doc had to shave your head to check it out."

"But it's all gone…" Puck muttered and ran his hands around his completely smooth head. It was a bit of a shock. Sure he had buzzed it, but he liked feeling the thin layer of hair, this…this was not okay.

"The doc was only going to shave that little spot, but I told him to take it all off. I know how much you like Mack, so I thought I would help you look like him. At the time, it seemed like a good idea, but now I'm not so sure…" Britt rubbed his head but stopped. "And with your bald head, my black eye is starting to look better cause at least I've got hair." Her hand kept caressing the smooth surface. "It feels so weird.."

"It feels weird to you? It's all gone! It feels real fucking weird to me!" Puck continued to touch his head and then winced. His eyes went down to his leg. He looked up. "How bad is my leg?"

"I didn't want to tell you, Puck…but they had to remove it and the infection spread so bad they had to take off your…" Britt paused for a dramatic reveal. Santana pursed her lips and nodded 'no'. But Britt didn't heed her disapproval. "…third leg…"

Puck creased his brows trying to comprehend. Britt's helpful eye brow wiggle to his midsection was all the hint Puck needed to panic. "What did he have to cut?!"

He ripped the covers up and glanced down between his legs underneath his hospital gown. While Puck was occupied making sure his "third leg" was still attached, Santana looked across the bed and gave Brittany a look. The blonde gave her an "innocent" look and shrugged as if she couldn't imagine why Santana would be glaring at her.

"Holy shit! It's still there!" Puck glanced back up from the covers. Relief was plastered all over his face. He made an attempt to punch Britt in the arm. The PI ducked back. He leaned forward and let out a terrible groan. The monitors started to beep at a faster pace and the sound of footsteps coming down the corridor signaled the arrival of the nurses.

"Detective, it's so nice to see you up and about." The nurse said as she pushed him back and moved around Santana. "Looks like you need some more pain medication." She fiddled with the machines and within moments, Puck was once again sleeping soundly and without pain.

"Hope he wasn't too much of a bear, ladies. Lack of meds and disorientation tend to make patients moody."

"He was fine." Santana cut into the conversation with another look at Brittany. "One of us might have been acting like an animal though." Before Britt could argue, Santana continued. "Could I have some band-aids or gauze pads?"

"I'll see what I can do, hun."

As she walked out, Santana made eye contact with the PI once more. "I will clean your head by the end of the day, Ms. Pierce."

Britt's smirk only increased at Santana's tone of voice. She always liked it when Santana used her stubborn, determined voice.

It was still sexy.

* * *

Barb had brought them some lunch from the cafeteria and explained that Puck would be in and out all day because of the pain medication. He was stable and he would make a full recovery. She offered to call them a cab to take them home, but both Brittany and Santana declined politely. The food tasted like hospital and their backs and necks were sore from sleeping in strange positions. For some reason neither woman wanted to talk about, they felt compelled to stay close to Puck. All three of them had almost died because they had spilt-up. It wasn't the time to break apart again.

They were watching cartoons on the hospital television which hung on the wall. It had terrible quality and the sound didn't match the voices, but it didn't matter. Ruefully, Santana observed how they always seemed to watch cartoons when they were together. At least Puck didn't seem to mind. He was in and out of a drug induced stupor all day. Every now and then he would laugh or comment on something before going back to sleep. And even though they were in a hospital and they hadn't caught the killer, it felt good to just take a break.

A respectful knock at the door interrupted their viewing.

Puck was sleeping soundly.

"Come in." Santana called.

Britt immediately stood up. Her offensive stance shifted the air in their peaceful setting. One word issued like a challenge from her lips. "Greene."

"Down, Pierce." Macklin's voice defused the fight before it could begin between the two. He stood behind the dirty blond-haired detective. The sneer on Greene's face had diminished to a lesser, but equally nasty expression. "We are coming to check up on one of the City's finest."

"You're welcome to come in, Mack, but leave your shadow."

Santana grimaced at Brittany's lack of diplomacy, but couldn't argue against her sentiments. She didn't need to see Greene and from Greene's eyes, he hadn't forgotten their last encounter. Unable to resist, Santana flashed him a cocky smile as she recalled how hard he had gone down when her knee had slammed him between the legs.

"I'll come and go where I please, Pierce, but by 'we' I meant someone besides Detective Greene." Macklin turned around and held his hand out. Greene's face turned sour. "Come here, champ."

A small boy, Santana recognized instantly, bound through the door wearing an oversized hat that looked like a giraffe. His head perked up and his eyes brightened as he caught sight of Brittany standing in the middle of the room.

"Britt Britt!" He screamed in joy and ran to her open arms. Britt scooped him up in her arms and tossed him in the air as if he was weightless.

"LT!" She was laughing and swinging him around without a care. "Did Big Mac bring you?"

Macklin's beard shuffled in feigned agitation at the nick name, but Santana could see the smile hiding in the older man's eyes. Greene's expression darkened further at the nickname and Macklin's lack of reprimand for what would have otherwise been "disrespectful".

"Yeah, Big Mack brought me with Mr. Derek." Britt smiled since LT never showed Derek the same kind of closeness that he shared with Brittany. No nicknames or excitement in his voice when Greene would take him back. The little things were what mattered to Britt. The happiness in Lucas' voice faded as he caught sight of Noah sleeping on the bed. "Is Uncle Puck dead?"

"Oh no, Lucas." Britt swung him around in her arms so they could both look at him together. The small boy's body anchored comfortably on her hips. "He's just sleeping and probably needs a hug from his favorite deputy assistant later."

"I can't hug him now?"

"He's sleeping, LT, but he will definitely need a hug later."

Macklin cleared his throat and caught Brittany's attention. "Lucas, can you give me a few minutes to talk to Brittany and Mr. Derek? Could you perhaps go get a soda or something with Ms. Lopez?"

Santana hadn't expected to be addressed in this intimate moment. Her eyes flicked from Macklin to Lucas and then to Brittany. At first, Brittany's face didn't change, but slowly, a genuine smile spread as if Macklin's suggestion had been the best possible answer.

Lucas didn't think so. He squirmed around in Britt's arms as she knelt down. He didn't let go. His arms wrapped firmly around the PI's neck. He was whispering something with fierce conviction into Brittany's ear. Every few words he would warily glance over his shoulder to "Ms. Lopez". Santana understood his suspicious nature. He had spent a great amount of time being passed between Brittany and Greene. His early development had been hampered by politics and mistrust between the two people who had saved him. Santana understood trust issues. She had many. In order to help, she knelt down and gave Lucas a soft smile. The smile made him turn back to Brittany even faster.

Over his shoulder, Britt's eyes relayed more than words could express.

Only in her dreams or alcoholic musings had the PI imagined she would be able to introduce Lucas to Santana.

"Lucas…" She said softly into his ear, but loud enough for everyone in the room to hear her. "Remember when I said there was only one other person in the entire world who could call me Britt Britt?"

He nodded.

"That's Santana…that woman over there."

He gave Santana another look up and down. Lucas leaned in and whispered something to Brittany. The blonde haired beauty glanced up before she answered LT. "Yes, she is very pretty and very special to me."

Lucas whispered something else. Brittany answered. "I promise."

Without another question, he turned and released the death grip he had on Brittany's neck. Bashful and still a little cautious, he made his way over to Santana.

"It's very nice to meet you, Lucas."

"It's nice to meet you too, Ms. Santana."

She leaned down and took the hand he offered. With a subtle wink and smile, Santana said. "You can just call me, Aunt Tana. Britt Britt and I go way back."

"Well you can call me LT since only Britt Britt calls me that."

"It's nice to meet you, LT. How about I get you something to eat at the snack machine?"

"Sure!" He said excitedly.

Santana smiled graciously, but her eyes were already seeking Brittany. Without saying a word, she asked if her partner would be fine with Macklin and Greene. Britt gave her a nod. It would be fine. She just wanted Lucas to be okay. Santana's grip on Lucas shifted. This was Brittany's LT and her life line in New York. The door closed behind them and Santana prayed Britt would be fine with Macklin as backup. She could only imagine what they were discussing, but Santana had a feeling it had to do with the boy holding her hand.

"You're not afraid of hospitals, LT?"

"Nope!" He stated as he tugged at her hand. "Britt would take me to them all the time. She said sometimes they keep special records for special children like me. But she said that we had to be careful that no one would see us looking for them."

Santana ruefully shook her head. Of course Brittany would already be teaching Lucas how to be sneaky. A few of the nurses and people visiting sent them smiles and Lucas waved at every single person. The giraffe on his hat bounced playfully upon his head. And Santana had every intention of taking him to get snacks, but she spotted a medicine cabinet behind one of the nurses' stations left unmanned. "You want to help me like you help Britt?"

Lucas nodded enthusiastically.

"I need you to tell me if anyone comes this way. Just tug on my pants. Okay?"

He nodded again. Santana ruffled his giraffe hat before she opened the door behind the station. Nonchalantly, she fiddled with the cabinet of supplies for the bandages, but the lock proved to be stronger than it appeared. Santana found a pair of scissors in one of the drawers and jammed it into the lock. It popped and the cabinet swung open. She grabbed a box of plain band-aids from the cabinet and handed them to Lucas. The boy accepted them without any question and they walked out together.

"You did great." Santana was smiling. "Now let's get you some snacks. What's your favorite candy?"

Lucas just gave her a smile and shook the box in his hand.

Band-aids weren't the only hospital materials they appropriated on their way to the snack machine.

Twenty minutes later, Santana was standing above Brittany, who was seated on a chair. The PI had her head back and her eyes closed. Santana held a wet gauze in her hand. Gingerly, she was cleaning out the cut from Peterson's fist and checking out her ex-lover's black eye. LT was beneath her. The boy had around his neck a stethoscope they had also "found" as they were getting candy. He had the metal listening device against Brittany's chest and was searching for Brittany's heartbeat. Santana peaked down from her cleaning to see Lucas intently locating Brittany heart. Britt opened her eyes. They were only a few inches away.

But no words were needed. They were smiling. Lucas was content and Puck was still sleeping.

"I found it!" Lucas exclaimed and looked up for approval from Santana.

"Great job, doctor!" Santana readjusted the nurse's cap. They had found that in the supply closet, which had been next to the candy machine. It reminded her of the candy stripper outfit she had rocked in high school. Lucas thought it made her look pretty.

Brittany's eyes told Santana that "pretty" wasn't the word she would have used.

Hungry.

Santana felt a shiver run down her spine.

"I think she needs a band-aid up here, doctor." Santana broke their eye contact to avoid the hot and cold flashes rippling through her body.

"I've got one!" Lucas lifted one of the band-aids they had borrowed from the cabinet. During their adventure, Santana found a box of markers and while they waited for Macklin, Greene, and Brittany to finish their discussion, they had colored on the band-aids. This one had a purple smiley face on it. Lucas held it up for Santana.

"Thank you, Dr. LT." With a fake solemn expression, Santana took the band-aid from Lucas' hand. With the colorful band-aid in hand, Santana made sure she applied anti-bacterial ointment to Brittany's forehead before she hovered above the cut. Playfully, but in absolute seriousness, Santana restated. "I told you that I would have this cut cleaned and dressed by the end of the day."

Lucas was too busy applying the rest of the colored band-aids to various parts of Brittany's arms to understand what was happening above him.

"If I had known you were going to dress up and play nurse, I would have let you done whatever you wanted with my _dressing_ earlier and preferably alone…" Britt's suggestions lowered the tone of her voice and implied more than Santana could ignore. Her body unconsciously arched. But she said nothing as she was too afraid to lose herself in the moment. Brittany continued. "I like it when you get your way."

"Hey!"

Santana felt a hand lifting up the bottom of Puck's borrowed shirt and a finger against her bare skin. Lucas was pushing up the shirt even more and poking at her. He was intent on pulling up the shirt until the entire marking could be seen. "You've got one of these!" LT was looking up at Brittany now and Santana knew why he had been so quick to pull at the shirt. It was their matching tattoo. "But yours is different." He was now pulling at Brittany's shirt so hard that the PI had to stand up to match his demanding curiosity. Before he could disrobe her, Brittany pulled up her shirt and met Santana's eyes.

Finally, Santana could see what had changed.

* * *

"_Chips and salsa all over the carpet. The stains will never come out. Poor Kurt's clothing designs got destroyed and he's been in his room crying over a pile of material because you tried on all his clothes last night and rearranged everything. You threw the air mattress, which I so kindly blew up for you two last night, out the window along with your bedding. I'll never get those sheets back and the mattress has holes! You started a game of strip poker with our neighbors – the Dwights-" Her dark eyes were on fire as she glanced to the closest non-moving body in the apartment. "-and before you ask, Brittany, yes, the old people who you think look like Mr. and Mrs. Bighead. Somehow you forgot the small technicality of the cards and just started stripping with them."_

"_Did I win?" The blonde earnestly croaked. _

"_Did you win?" Rachel whipped around from center stage in the flat she shared with Kurt. "Winning isn't really the objective in strip poker without cards, Brittany."_

"_So that means I won right?"_

"_If the competition was who lost their clothes first? Then yes, Brittany, you won. But you didn't win the competition for longest time spent undressed. That award went to Mrs. Dwight much to the horror of our building mates who came out to see what all the commotion was!"_

_Britt narrowed her eyes and sincerely vowed. "Mrs. Bighead, I will get you next time."_

_Rachel realized getting to Brittany would be impossible. There was no good or bad with the blonde. Just fun. So she ignored Brittany's vows to get even with Mrs. Bighead and her list went on. _

_She turned to Santana. "And you-" Her ire redirected to the other woman in the room. "-puked last night." _

_God, could her voice be any more annoying? Santana groaned. She stuffed the pillows around head in a cone shape to block out the voice. But it was futile because the litany of grievances Rachel had against their night, continued. To stop the verbal cataloging, Santana barked in defiance. "A Lopez never pukes."_

"_Santana Lopez!" Rachel was banshee screaming. "You are lying and I know you did because you did it in front of me!"_

"_A Lopez never pukes." Santana stressed once more. She groaned and glanced over at Tubbs. The fat cat was lying on its side and looked like it was barely breathing. The little fucker had more to drink last night than she did. Damn cat could hold his alcohol. "No proof. Maybe Tubbers puked on you and you don't remember it. He likes to mark his territory. Maybe it was one of his mating things."_

"_No proof?" The diva was puffing up. Santana wasn't sure if she puked on her. The whole night was a giant blur, but it was always entertaining to get Rachel upset because it was so easy. "No proof? Santana Lopez, you came into my room and sat on my bed. You stroked my head and said 'That'll do, hobbit. That'll do.' And then informed me that you wouldn't sell me, no matter how much the butcher was going to give you for me. I was about to remind you, for the hundredth time that I am vegan, and that once again, you were being offensive and insensitive, but I never got the chance because you leaned over and puked right in my lap." _

"_Erroneous!" Santana moaned, but it sounded suspiciously like the dream she had last night. _

_Rachel wasn't done yet. "And then you told me to clean it up right away, smacked my ass, and said you expected better service from the hot red-head from American Horror Story. At least she wore a maid outfit. And then you walked out!"_

"_Like I said, no proof." Santana said with a giggle she shared with a blonde not too far away. Britt might have been almost as dead as Tubb, but she had been conscious enough to hear how drunk Snixx antagonized Rachel. _

"_I have those sheets! At least they are in the wash and not on the dirty street like the ones Brittany chucked out the window!"_

"_No proof. No puke. No proof."_

"_ARGGGHHHHH!" Rachel was throwing something; both girls didn't even bother to move. Rachel had a terrible arm. Besides, they were hung over and Santana's side was burning. She couldn't move, even if she wanted to. Whatever it was hit the floor and skid by harmlessly. Lord Tubbington made a strange noise that Santana could only pray was his dying breath. He turned over and lazily eyed the object Rachel had thrown before going back to sleep. Even LT had no time for Berry. _

"_God, my side is killing me." Santana groaned. She rolled over and came face to face with who she imagined was the culprit for everything they may or may not have done the previous night. _

_One, Ms. Brittany Susan Pierce._

_And even though Brittany was just as dead as she was, the blonde still managed to look sexy as hell. _

"_Hey, baby." Santana said with a smile._

"_Hey." Brittany inched her aching body a little closer to her girlfriend. Rachel had been completely forgotten by both of them. "Remember what we did last night?"_

"_Not really…" Santana said with a smile. Her pearly white teeth caught her bottom lip. "Everything's kinda fuzzy."_

"_I don't mean about celebrating. I mean, do you remember what we're celebrating?" Britt prompted her. But before Santana could answer, the blonde reached into the pocket of her jeans on the floor. The jeans which she had stripped last night during her poker game. From the back pocket, she pulled out her phone. With a few buttons, Brittany was flashing Santana the deed to the warehouse, which they were going to convert to a studio._

"_How could I forget?" Santana was giddily laughing. It was hard not to be so happy. Everything they had talked about was coming true and that shitty warehouse where Britt had given her a real, real striptease was theirs. "Oh shit, Britt. I can't believe we did it."_

_Rachel was moaning in the background. "I can't believe you did it either. What is on your back, Santana?"_

_The question reminded the brunette that her backside had been hurting since she had awoken to Rachel's unearthly shrills. _

"_What? Did I fall or something?" Santana twisted her head around trying to see what Rachel was talking about. _

"_Not exactly…" Brittany did remember what was on their backs. "Remember last night, after the pussy patrolling at Reckloose with LT, you were carrying him and you two were having such a great time and he kinda suggested sealing the night with a sign of new beginnings?"_

_The look on Santana's face said she didn't remember any of that. In fact, the look on her face appeared like confusion descending rapidly to panic. _

"_Sealing? What did your cat make me do? And why was I holding him? I'm not sure what hurts more – my back or my head. Pussy patrolling?"_

"_Yeah, that's what you two called it when that nice owner at the gay club said we could come in with LT. Most clubs don't let him in, but she let us all in cause you said you wanted to go 'Pussy Patrolling' and you said it like that. And that Sharon chick thought you two were great! I was so happy you guys were getting along for once that I let you hold Lord Tubbington when we left the club."_

"_And then what?" Santana sat up from the couch. The world was still spinning, but she couldn't see what Rachel was looking at. _

_Brittany stood up and turned around. Luckily, since she had played strip poker last night, she didn't need to pull up her shirt. _

"_We got matching tattoos to celebrate the opening of LT:PI Dance Studio and Investigations!"_

_Santana's eyes widened as she saw the likeness of Lord Tubbington's body on Brittany's left side. Dressed in a Sherlock Holmes hat and standing up, even as a tattoo, Tubbers still managed to look larger than life and bigger than any domestic feline legally allowed to be a pet in the United States. Underneath the fat cat, the initials LT: PI had been stamped. _

"_And it was your suggestion, so I said of course we should get them! And then we drank a shit ton more alcohol and crashed at Rachel's place!" Britt turned back with a big smile and waved at Rachel._

_The diva was lamenting to herself. "Why are there always naked people at my apartment? And Brittany you didn't crash __**at**__ my place, you crashed __**it**__!"_

"_You convinced me to tattoo a picture of your fat ass on my body!?" Santana was addressing the almost comatose cat. "I've been working on perfecting this body for twenty-one years! How could you!?"_

_Santana made a lunge, but the cat somehow rolled over just in time to miss the raging brunette. _

"_I love it when they play together!"Brittany smiled and turned back to Rachel. "So, Rachel, wanna help us fix up our new place?"_

"_You've got to be kidding…" Rachel shook her head. Santana and LT rolled into one of her small tables. The lamp fell to the floor and shattered. "I'll help you move anywhere as long as you crash there the next time you decide to celebrate anything."_

"_Deal!" _

* * *

LT: PIERCE

The portrait of Lord Tubbington still sat on Brittany's lower back, just like Santana's, but those extra letters changed everything. Santana looked up, but Britt was smiling back down at Lucas. He was placing a band-aid on her tattoo. "Thanks LT." The blonde reached down and helped him to pat down the band-aid so it wouldn't come off. Brittany knew Santana was waiting for her to look up. But it was hard to meet her eyes.

When she found Lucas, she had been a mess and Lord Tubbington had just died. In a moment of fear and confusion, she had started calling the boy LT before she eventually decided to give the letters a name: Lucas Thomas. After that, she couldn't tell the boy she had named him after a pet. Before Lucas asked any questions about the tattoo, Brittany altered it.

Besides, the tattoo had always been about new beginnings.

Lucas had been a second shot at not messing up. But it all sounded silly when Brittany thought about it. It had probably been stupid and reckless and thoughtless. She made a lot of mistakes and they were hard to face.

As if Santana could read her mind, her partner quietly said. "I like the changes."

* * *

Santana had asked Brittany what they talked about. Her partner only divulged that because of the Nelson problem and the lack of Strangler leads, that we would have to put aside our problems for the sake of the department. He made Greene bring Lucas as a sign of good will. Santana had accepted the explanation, but didn't believe for a second that Greene would play nice. At least she had officially met Brittany's Lucas.

Hours had passed since Greene took Lucas with him.

All was quiet and the sun was setting. The lights in the hospital were dim, but Brittany didn't mind. It was just perfect.

Some time ago, Puck had woken up enough to eat some dinner with them, get sick, and then fall back asleep.

He wasn't the only one.

Santana's head had slumped and rolled down to Brittany's shoulder as they were watching cartoons. Her chest moved softly up and down. A few colored band-aids with red circles and pink squiggly lines decorated Santana's sleeves and one clung to the back of her left hand. Brittany's right arm wrapped around her ex-lover's shoulders and held her.

It was just perfect.

Brittany knew it wouldn't last. There was still a killer out there. Puck's leg was pretty fucked up. And there were so many unresolved issues, but in this moment, it was perfect.

Exhausted, Brittany resisted sleep. She wanted to remember this moment. She didn't know if she would ever hold Santana like this again.

Everything was temporary.

The door handle turned and Britt's eyes darted up. Santana didn't stir.

Brittany's heart stopped and her mouth turned to ash. In vain, she searched for something to say, but every word or pleasantry she could have uttered, dried up before she could speak. Unsure what to do, she started to wake Santana up.

But Terry held out her hand. "No, don't wake her."

"She was just sleeping, I can wake her up."

"It's fine. I just-" Terry glanced around the room. Her eyes touched on Puck's body, but they almost immediately returned to the two women sharing intimate body space. "-I just wanted to see if Lo was okay. I figured she needed some time to recover."

Terry was whispering and Britt could only imagine what the California lawyer was thinking.

"She wasn't hurt. Only Puck…" Brittany's eyes locked onto the amber colored ones across from her. "We were just sticking around to make sure he was comfortable. We didn't want him to be alone."

"I understand. Any good friend would have done that." Terry said, but her eyes were calculating distances and softened as she noticed Santana's peaceful expression.

The body in Brittany's hands shifted and Santana's eyes lazily opened. It took her a second to collect her bearings. "Sorry, B, I must have fallen asleep." She straightened and finally noticed the other woman. "Terr?"

"Nice to see you too, Lo."

"Oh my god, I'm sorry I didn't call! I didn't even think about it. It's been so crazy."

"It's fine. I'm just happy you're safe."

Brittany coughed and sat up with a good distance between their bodies. "I'm going to get a little stretch in. The nurse gave Puck some of the real good pain meds to get him through the night. So you shouldn't disturb him. You don't have to whisper."

"Britt?" Santana realized Brittany felt uncomfortable, but she didn't want her partner to go. "You don't have to leave."

"I really need to walk. I've been sitting in that chair all day."

"Are you sure?" Terry added. "You're more than welcome to stay."

"I'll be back in a few. You can go home with Terry and get some real rest in a real bed, Santana. Good night to both of you." Brittany shut the door to Puck's room before either of them could respond. The PI didn't want to hear any of their perfectly courteous responses or fake invitations to stay there. She couldn't watch Santana with Terry – not like that.

Not after everything they had been through and shared…

Britt stood in the hallway for a minute to collect her thoughts.

There was one thing she wanted to check – without Santana.

* * *

Sneaking in hadn't been a problem even with the beefed up security. Most patrolling officers set to guard weren't debriefed on high profile cases like this, but most of them recognized Brittany. All it took were a few of the right words, her license, and she could make her way through NYPD without any trouble. Tonight had been no exception.

The room was very dark for even a hospital, but Brittany wanted it to be dark. Her target wasn't sleeping. She had seen the way his breathing changed when he heard the door open. She walked up to the bed and pulled a chair out.

Nelson Yorkshire's eyes were closed and he was desperately trying to appear like he was sleeping. The cops had placed handcuffs around both of his arms and cuffed him to the rails of his bed. There were all sorts of monitors on him and strips of gauze not too far away. Britt sat down. She glanced to Nelson's chart, but disregarded it. Patient, Brittany sat there and waited for Nelson's anxieties to get the better of him. Sweat started to rest upon his upper lip and his brow furrowed as he attempted to remain perfectly still.

It was pathetic.

After Brittany was satisfied with the amount of squirming Nelson was doing, she leaned forward and flicked his ear. His eyes snapped open. Fear rested in their center. She clamped her hand down on his mouth so he wouldn't call out. She didn't need to explain this to Macklin even if she had a feeling the chief would understand.

Brittany kept her voice low. "Do you know who I am? Nod if you do and don't you fucking lie to me."

His wide eyes and perspiration answered the question before his frantic nodding confirmed that Nelson definitely knew PI Pierce.

"Good." Her other hand pulled back on the blankets. There were thick bandages and blood spotting on the white sheets around where Santana had stabbed the pervert. "Because I now know who the fuck you are. Does that scare you?"

Again, Nelson's nod was driven by enthusiastic terror.

"It should because I saw your little peep show exhibit of my girl." Brittany leaned forward. Her hand pressed harder on his mouth so he wouldn't make any noise. Her other hand found the white patch of gauze protecting his newly stitched wound. She poked at the center. Nelson's hiss was muffled by her hand so she did it again. Her bright eyes were dark. "If you ever go near her again, think about her again, or if you ever point anything – a finger, your camera, or your dick anywhere near her again, I will chop you into so many pieces, they will never find you. I promise. And when you go to prison, which you will, I will make sure you are somebody's bitch – the kind of bitch everyone uses."

Her hand pressed harder into his side. Red was pooling through the gauze.

"Do we understand each other?"

He was thrashing in pain and the blood was now seeping out of the bandage. With all of his excess movement, he probably popped the stitches.

"Do you understand me?" Brittany waited. She wanted him to nod.

His spit covered the palm of her hand and he was still whipping about, but now his head was going up and down. Nelson was eager to appease Brittany – anything to make the pain stop.

"I think you split your stitches. You're going to need a nurse." She dug her hand in one more time to make sure he knew this was not a false promise or a bluff. "I can't wait to see you again, Nelson. And it should be soon."

She released his mouth and pressed the button for the nurse. Brittany easily slipped by the police stationed at the door and the incoming nurses. Nelson's yelps of agony could be heard as she walked down the hallway. Britt reached up to pull the knitting of her beanie down, but forgot it had been misplaced during the gunfight at the studio. Casually, she walked over to a nurses station, turned on the facet and methodically cleaned Nelson's blood from her hands.

* * *

Brittany's trip up to Nelson's room hadn't taken long, but she didn't want to see Santana and Terry interact. She didn't know if she could stomach seeing them touch and comfort and hold each other. It was too late for them. Britt knew that. She knew that. It was just hard to face. Santana would move back to California and Brittany could continue whatever it was she had been doing.

To delay the inevitable, Brittany took a few laps around the hospital. She prayed by the time she came back, Terry would have taken Santana back to her hotel for a good night of sleep. Santana needed it. After her third tour of the Emergency Room and her second visit to the candy machines, Brittany could feel her eyes drooping and her energy draining. She needed some sleep too. Careful not to disturb Puck's medicated slumber, she pushed the door to his room open. On her way through, Brittany convinced Barb to let Britt spend the night with Puck. The prospect of spending a night alone in her apartment was unpleasant. She just wanted some company even if it was drugged-up Puck.

The room lacked voices. However, it did contain Puck's obnoxious snoring. Luckily, Brittany had gotten used to it when they used to bunk at each other's places.

She made to sit into the far side chair, but a voice stopped her.

"You're not going to come over here?"

Brittany didn't even check to see if the couch she had been sitting on with Santana had been occupied. Now, she looked over Puck's resting body. Santana's dark eyes were lighter in the moonlight. The shades on the hospital room windows did a poor job keeping out the light. But they did an excellent job providing Brittany with a fantastic view of Santana's silhouette.

"You're still here?" Brittany asked. She thought for sure Santana would have gone home with Terry. She released the grip on the chair next to the corner of the room and made her way around to the couch.

"Where else would I be?"

Britt shrugged and lingered at the foot of Puck's bed. "I thought you'd go back with Terry."

"And leave you two?" Santana shook her head. She was covered in a hospital blanket. When she realized Brittany wasn't going to join her without an invitation, the lawyer lifted the sheet. With what would have been a causal flick of the head for a friend to join her on the couch, it felt like more. Britt smiled. Her heart flipped. Santana wanted her to sit on the couch with her underneath the blanket. "Come here, Britt. I stole a blanket from one of the supply closets. I figure they won't miss it."

And just like that, all the nasty business of Nelson and the sick feelings Terry elicited, disappeared. "They're probably more concerned about the missing band-aids you helped Lucas steal."

Brittany had barely settled into the couch cushion before Santana's head rested onto her shoulder. The brunette pulled the blanket up over both of them and Brittany easily wrapped her arm around Santana's waist. They were back to the position they had been in before Terry disrupted them.

Santana reached up and gently massaged the smiley face band-aid back across the blonde's forehead. "Lucas and I worked very hard on these."

Brittany tried to pretend that she wasn't effected greatly by hearing Santana say Lucas' name so easily. "You're just proud because you figured out a way to get one on me."

"You're just upset because I figured out the way to get what I want. Seems like PI Pierce has a soft spot after all, he just happens to be young, blonde, and a boy." Santana teased. She dropped her hand from Brittany's face. Her fingers curled into a fist against her ex-lover's chest. It was hard to stay awake when Brittany felt like home.

Brittany smiled softly. She rested her chin above Santana's head and molded into her partner's body. She couldn't believe she had been willing to give up this feeling to sleep by herself in a chair.

Because this was perfect.

"He's not my only soft spot." Brittany admitted as she finally allowed herself to succumb to a real night's sleep.

* * *

**Writing this chapter was so nice because holy shit I think everyone needed a breather after the last few chapters. Don't worry though, there are still plenty of cliff-hangers, twists, turns, and oh fuck moments coming!**

**And again, thank you to all of my readers, reviewers, and all the people who send me messages! Because of you, I've never had a better or more productive year than I have writing **_**Sirens**_**. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!**


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